CHILDREN'S CHURCH

Where do they go every Sunday
Just after the choir sing
And the organist plays on half-expectedly
Keeping one eye on the congregation
We tell them not to talk to strangers
But happily let them go with someone
They hardly ever see.
He looks a bit old for Children's Church
That man with the red complexion
Dragging a small dissenter along the aisle
Embarrassed by his partner's lack of attention.
He won't return - he'll sit it out
Having weighed up the lesser of two evils
Missing the sermon because duty calls
And the wife needs a well earned break.
I know where I'd like to go next Sunday
If I can latch on to a child
For just a few minutes
I'm as young as I feel but too old
To join the mass exodus on my own