Just Another Sunday

A slight mist of rain surrounds the coming night,

A few scattered summer fireflies flicker in the darkness,

An easy breeze swirls, welcomed by the reaching branches,

A faint trace of Newports perfumes my apartment,

An individual bottle of muscadine attends to me. 

It's just another Sunday,

It's just another day, all too familiar in its mystery.



This poem is about: 


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