During church I would
not be able to
pay attention to
even the briefest speeches
that seeks to breach
the souls
that old bold preacher
was trying to reach.

Instead, I played in my head.
Weird fantasies
where I have seen salty seas,
waves gently sweeping
small bits of wooden debris
away as small *****
crawled and creeped.

Eyes closed, imaging those
other places while familiar faces
gathered around, I would fall asleep
as the melody of my imagined scene
eased me from consciousness to
another state of strange dreams.

Until the pastor pounded the pulpit,
raising his passionate voice,
making my elbows slip.
Till my head dipped
and hit the front bit
of the pew before me.

The sermon was so boring,
but it was a prelude
of such magnitude
that it overshadows
the point I am trying to
get you to listen to.

So, tired that as I
write this for you to view,
I long to lie down
and get back to
my church pew
and old daydreams.