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My Sunday Best
'Twas Easter Morning so early I rose Showered and shaved and donned my old clothes Yes, the same Sunday clothes hanging about Are my Sunday best that again I'll wear out No wrinkle free suit or new shinny shoes But Lord it's my best that I wear to see you As I entered Your house, I grew keenly aware Of the better dressed folk that gave me a stare Perhaps they thought as they looked down their nose That I wore these same clothes a year ago I inched my way quickly to the back pew I'm here again Lord, I'm here to see You The church was filled with colors arrayed Many finely cloaked folk came to see You today A glance down the aisle saw the preacher's broad smile He knew the offering plate would be full in a while He kept nodding hello as he looked everywhere Most of these folk he hadn't seen in a year So many stylish outfits and feet finely shod Amidst all the glitter please know I'm here Lord It's been a long time since my clothes had new tags My Sunday best would be these other folk's rags When they come back again next year, adorned all anew Lord, find me in my Sunday best, in the back pew
This poem is not meant as an attack on those better off than I or about their church attendance so please take no offence. It was merely an observation I made one Easter Sunday about many years ago when I realized that my clothes were...somewhat outdated. Please read it for it's humor.
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