SUNDAY

Sun, you have a day
And your day wears the most pious clothes
In the whole wide world

II
Sun, your clothes are sinless
And they sparkle like you
As they turn most sinners
Into hypocritical hollies

III
Sun, may I ask a thing?
You sure aren’t without sin
Are you?
Because you shine
And you light
But you also burn
Enough to hurt
Is that why you hoard all traits?

IV
Sun, many churches’ have belly aches
From so much pounding by legs uncountable
Yes, pregnant churches hoard weeds and few plants
And on your day
When will they deliver?

V
You are a bride
Who many take for a ride
Like an abandoned car
Which is driven too far
Sun, even still
Your day shines better
Than all the days
Satisfied?
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015