My Childhood Church
Our church was old, brown, a block from downtown.
We could walk to Piper’s Candies from it, but Pipers was closed.
It was Sunday, in the fifties; everyone closed for church.
The people who came here were mostly women with kids.
Very few men, just single guys who wanted to get a woman.
I felt like most of these dudes were in their hundreds.
Men wore suits; women wore dresses. Girls were frilly.
Boys had on suits or vests, unless it was during Bible School.
Our shoes were polished, every Sunday. It was the law.
The same old women out-sang us from the choir loft every Sunday.
I did my best to out sing them, but they always won.
Our Sunday school teachers took it seriously.
We were there because there was no getting out of it.
Most of us were with Moms. Our fathers were doing other things.
The minister was about three hundred years old; I liked him though.
He always winked at me when I tried to out-sing the choir ladies.
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