Sunday Memories
I remember the days when I was small,
obedient and too young to be alone at a mall
Mama would let me go out and play,
with my bare feet on the sand; building shapes with the clay
All day long it would be the same ,
but it all changed when Sunday came...
The comfortable sandals converted to buckled shoes,
that definitely did not reveal my toes
My bright coloured shorts replaced by a white dress,
Oh. My mother dearest forbade me to mess
Then there were those navy blue tights,
itchy, hot and I couldn't put up a fight
Mama would fetch her hat, all decorated with sequins and lace,
she thought it complimented her feminine face.
Baba would stay comfortable on the couch,
while off she went to fetch her pouch
When we arrived, there they all were identical in their Sunday-gear,
hugs and handshakes were exchanged everywhere,
then the service would start with its exciting atmosphere.
What I remember most, was when we got home,
Greens, oranges, reds and rice
But my favourite was always that roast chicken with lots of spice!
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