The summers knocked upon my gate
I sat with grievances growing late
I fed them daily, year by year
While life's best offerings disappeared
There was a porch beneath a light
Someone waiting every night
I came with reasons, blame and pride
While precious seasons passed outside
Photographs along the wall
Changed so gently I missed it all
A silver strand, a slower stride
Time walked beside us, silent-eyed
Friends drifted farther down the years
Taking laughter, taking tears
I thought tomorrow would remain
Until tomorrow never came
Oh, if I could buy one hour
Not from heaven, not from power
Just one breakfast long ago
One ordinary Sunday glow
One more chance to hear them speak
One more hand against my cheek
Now the evening fills the room
And forgotten moments bloom
How many sunsets crossed the glass
How many birthdays came to pass
I chased victories made of air
And left life's truest riches there
My mother spoke of distant days
My father taught in quiet ways
I barely listened, hurried through
Certain there'd be more to do
The doctor speaks in measured tones
The medicine waits beside my bones
Outside, the fading daylight stays
Lingering on these final days
No fortune bears my family name
No history remembers fame
The only burden I still keep
The love postponed, the promises asleep
Oh, if I could buy one hour
Not from heaven, not from power
Just one breakfast long ago
One ordinary Sunday glow
One more chance to hear them speak
One more hand against my cheek
Now the evening fills the room
And forgotten moments bloom
If these words should reach your ear
Hold your people while they're here
The grandest dreams eventually fall
But shared affection outlives all
Every road runs out of miles
Every doorway loses smiles
Nothing wounds the heart so deep
As love postponed and left asleep
Perhaps this is my last Sunday
The final newspaper on my table
The final shadow crossing the yard
The final kettle singing in the kitchen
Tomorrow may arrive without me
And all the ordinary things
I barely noticed
The sparrows on the fence
The laughter from next door
The sunlight on the curtains
The voices in the hall
Will continue
Exactly as before
Without my footsteps
Without my chair
Without my name
Perhaps this is my last Sunday