*the space between church and yard makes a difference.
Listening to the rustle of the leaves
Feeling the sunlight zipping through the trees
The wind whispering something in my ear
Snatching me away from now; from here
The auburn bricks catching my attention
Hinting stories of the past and unknown
Ecclesiastical hymns played alone
Painting gloomy thoughts on this zone
I might solemnly stare there forever
And forget I have a present to bear
Nobody said life is hard to conquer
Would it be easier if we wait for later?
(BACK STORY: I have written this when I was supervising my NSTP students in cleaning a church’s garden. NSTPs are usually done during Fridays or Saturdays but for assonance’s sake, please let the title have the word Monday. haha Anyway, I want to use Monday because of the effect the day has on us humans.)