Hand Me Downs Poem by nathan martin

hand them down, pass them down,
coins clanking into the bottom of the
offering tin basket.

recite them now all those dark brown covered
hymnal words.

turning page after page
over to number 346 singing aloud,

'happy is the man whose cautious feet'.

now spell them out and write them down
all those verses that stick to the bone.


pass them down, hand them down
the crumbs from the lords table.

carried from pew to pew by a deacon
named Al who smells of old spice cologne.

remember him now standing so tall,
with a happy expression handing pamplets
down always from the center left isle.

me sitting there swinging my feet several
inches from the long green carpet.

wearing hand me down pants with pockets
full of sugar cubes i had snuck out to
get from the lobby.