I miss Jonathan on Saturdays,
listen to him at night but not the same,
melodies and daydreams go better,
on lazy afternoons,
so we have Sundays,
Nancy and Frankie singing from the book,
still great to hear you chat,
about this and that,
but I like some hot fudge,
on my Sundays to,
Cherries or Cranberries,
maybe Tony will wipe up something cool,
to go with my Sunday to.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem