I think of you sometimes,
On lazy afternoons,
Or when the Sun seems to dim,
Before noon,
I think,
Then, I’ll pick up a pen,
Then,
I’ll think again,
And there’s so much we still
Could say,
No wrong has been done,
Nor need to be undone,
Just a loss of understanding,
So let them kids say,
Things go like this
Anyway,
I say slippers aren’t just for
Sunday.