An Old Sunday

An Old Sunday
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Atticus of an old Sunday
When you past me sitting on the step
On the porch, waiting for thunder
And all of you came by like a parade
Atticus, walking for hunger
There is suffering in the world you said
At seventeen, I was in 1st grade
I couldn't think of anything to say
My sisters have soldiers to pray for
And they receive their presents in the mail
And Atticus, I was just thinking
I could pray for you and all your friends
There was a cloud of him, sunday fuller, something to come
And I got you bunches of azalea
I gave you bunches of azalea
You say, "Look at the flowers, look at the flowers"
And I thought I could keep all mine
And Atticus, I was so happy when I said good-bye to you and your parade