I sang in church on Sunday.
For my friends
And God.
For all the wrong reasons.
So that people could hear me.
So that he could hear me.
He didn't come.
He said he would.
He could have made it.
He could have tried.
He could have been sorry.
He should have been a friend.
A true one.
A dependable one.

I sang in church on Sunday.
I was good.
I sang for my friends
And God.
I stood up to sing
With my stomach in my throat.
I looked around,
Thinking he would turn the corner
Like they do in the movies.
He didn't.
The piano started.
Without him.

I sang in church on Sunday.
He will never know.
I sang for my friends
And God.
I sang from my heart.
I looked at my friends
And in my soul.

He let me sing
For God.