Creative Writing

Sunday Morning (for the first time)

By Evan Wilson

The first few left turns are full of anxiety

But the same smell of libraries is always inside of me

And the bumbling fool who said all those things

Is the collection of past and what future day brings.

When the first day of school counts down like an ax

It cuts through to the sadness of when last days relax

Just like the first smile is all opportunity

Sometimes it takes two to bind two in unity.

Last night stayed up late because it’s not their first Sunday

But today’s the tomorrow when you said before “someday”

And a library, church, or a friend in the morning

Is when young turns to old without worry or warning.

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