well... its all abt a sunday


SUNDAY

Up... up, Amy, it's time for school?
I, turning the other side, say, " It's a holiday, mom?"
Up... up, Amy, it's time for Sunday school?
I stare hard at my mother's glaring eyes,
"Mom, I go to St. Mary's School!How can you forget that?"
With a smile on her face and pity in her eyes she says,
"You will go here as well dear."
I open my mouth and close it again
I shake my head and feel I am dreaming again
I look at her again and say,
"I never gave an interview"
She pulls me out of the bed and smiles,
"Now, I don't want to be interviewed on that."

"They won't take me" rings in my head
As I dress up for my first day there.
But as Sister Anna holds my hand
Makes me sit near the music stand
As the songs and music flow
As every child's face gives a radiant glow
As we act and hop and dance
I realize to understand this I was so slow.

Now its when I ponder on the whys
I find it was the turning point of my life
Sunday school was the place I stood
And realized it is good to be good.





Poetry by Amy Valentina
Read 492 times
Written on 2009-08-01 at 07:32

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