Sunday Night Tummy

It’s that time on a Sunday night
When I start thinking of turning off the light
And turning in and shutting my eyes
And hoping for a dream in which I fly
I’ve been told by a reputable source
Whom I know I can trust absolutely of course
That people stop dreaming of flying up high
When they of their creativity fall shy
It saddens my heart to think of their feet
All wrapped up in their bedroom sheet
By shutting the door on imagining
They’ve cut themselves off from the world within

I know one boy who flies every night
In between the stars so bright
He was born 4 years ago today
With the innate urge to run and play
He filled my heart with so much pride
As he took in his stride his first real horse ride
The smile on his face took my breath quite away
I know where we’ll be each and every Saturday

Wrapping torn lies strewn round my floor
And robots and transformers lying in the door
But more than the presents he found
The love from those who love having him around
The fact that knowing his mum and his dad
His grandfather, granny, grandma and granddad
His cousin, his aunties and godparents near and far
Think he is the very best boy by far
Far outweighed the red guitar for our very own super Rock Star

I’m away from the office for most of Monday
No briefs had better go astray
No car accidents or other mishaps
Better befall any one of my chaps
I’m off on a shoot and I have to say
That I am excited in a sweet childish way
Being me I did check the important facts
Like is there going to be enough delicious snacks?

Now tired inertia has truly set in
It’s time that I went and turned in
I’ve got that funny feeling deep in my tum
You get on Sunday nights that signals the end of the fun
I’ve had it since school days – do you know what I mean?
The knowledge that things are not quite as they seem

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