You feel like a Sunday morning
In a way where you wake up softly to the cold air to only be kept in by warmth
Where your eyes meet the little glimmer of light, to know it's there . . . a brand new day
It's the calmness of the moment, where you struggle to do anything productive
When you only want to stay in bed
It's the warm sheets and soft pillows
It's the carefree thoughts of today and not tomorrows worries
It's Sunday, and I have you
You smell like fresh coffee You taste like butter on toast
Simple but sometimes the only thing you need And sometimes, it's the only thing you have
You turn Sunday breakfast into Sunday brunch
Where all our friends are invited
And I just have a little too much to drink
But it's Sunday I tell them, and I have you
I cherish my Sunday's
And I know I'll cherish you
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