A Devoted Sunday Morning

A free verse poem.

Sunday morning sun rays started shining in
through the floating dead skin cells
piercing his lined jacket hanging high,
peeking in and kissing what is real,
telling life to wake up, move, or forever be gone.
Umbrella remains and collects a day's worth of dust.
Five leather-bound artifacts—all the same,
one for each person, even little Bobby.
He'll learn to read soon.