Redevelopment

One more Sunday morning, we meet
you on that chair in the corner
and I near the door
Again those useless sweaty tongues
same thoughts, pickled and recycled
you nod your approval
like a wooden doll on beads
and straighten your back on every plead
not looking at my direction
nor see my wrinkled nose
thoughtlessly, you distribute advice
changing fonts and shapes
which nobody can read
and you begin anew

Later that afternoon
you will meet me alone
to sob on my shoulders
and crib like a baby, I know
how hard it is for you
to chair that meeting
where lines are distorted
so are the shapes of greed
Week after week,
I will give you same advice
Of taking your stand
And not let them bully you

Every Sunday evening, we built new hope
to own a house on the same floor
marble tiled, comfy lifts, decent gym
where you can sit on your side of window
and I on mine
and watch the sunset
matching the rays to find some clues

Every Sunday night,
You and I will paint fresh dreams
Of different hues
and wash away our blues

ps: today was the exercise on blue and I could use this word only once.
An exercise in blue: http://www.jacarandapress.org/writing/poetry/blue.shtml