Sunday Afternoon
Marian Call
Sun-soaked skin shines hot and golden
Inside the glare the sky is white
A boundless yawn engulfs the lawn
Where dreams are drunk on blazing light
Sprawled carelessly upon the grass
The edges of my dress creep high
How light the streams of balmy beams
Stroking soft across my thigh
Virginia Woolf naps there beside me
Pen falls from hand to find its rest
Eyelids drift, no lashes lift
And gently rises, falls my breast
Sleep and wake and time mean nothing
Til five o'clock comes far too soon
But daisy-haired and shoulders bared
How sweet was Sunday afternoon
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