Easter Sunday

Easter Sunday Beautiful spring morning the sun warms his face but he is not feeling well, drank too much wine last night out of boredom. He had wanted to write of resurrection but no words came mainly because he is unable to believe of the possibility, as it flies in the face of life itself. Also, he was thinking of his resurrection, no one else to start life over again and get it right this time. His life had been a failure intermingled with hope that one day, he would be content and successful. Now it was too late and the coffee he had made this morning had gone cold and stale. He smiles bitterly and says to himself, you are an angry older man unhappy and argumentative and spends his remaining days watching cartoons not caring about the suffering of the world.