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Sunday Revisited
Back in those days as a kid
When we were scrubbed and polished
Put into clothes we never wore other days,
Did you dread those mornings going to church
To listen to the sermon sayer,
The one who was messing with some
Of our friends, the one Tom saw
Naked with his mother,
Every one praying
As if nothing ever happened
All wearing those Sunday smiles
As phony as the fools gold we found
In the rocks at the river,
Do you remember being grounded
For visiting that lady who lived on her own,
Still sneaking out in spite of that to go see her at night,
Sitting mesmerized as she showed us and told us things
That no one else ever did.
Stephen Nesbitt © (5:29 PM January 22, 2012) . .
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