A Quiet Time

The fragrance of banana bread coming from downstairs Fills my imagination with desires of food On this quiet Sunday afternoon I'll try to get a nap in before dinner But the hunger pains are interrupting my sleep I stare at the shelves of stuffed animals With cobwebs intwining them And wonder how amazing a worker The spider is I should dust those shelves But I have no desire to do anything Not even poetry I want to take a break and relax For it's the Lord's Day But even the Lord worked on Sundays I had to get the bed sheets ready For a dry night's rest But inspiration has shown its face again And I am typing away my desire to close my eyes And float into space Between reality and falsehood As it's discipline that is an excuse