Your honesty, a kiss on my lips, seven up, seven cups, cooking on a Sunday night.
Not needing open windows, while having open doors and wind, Autumn’s fragile blanket. Taking this night as it is, simplistic and open to change.
We still remember, on this night, not forgetting.
Sunday night, in this old house, we’re rocking in this small kitchen.
Crying and laughing blaring old country music, experiencing release and embracing tender memories tight.
Taking this night as it unravels, playing our music, fueling emotional cries and happy smiles.
Taking on this night, simplistic and open to all Sunday night brings.