The Parson's Daughter Poem by Terry Collett

She always seemed
to be dressed in grey

the parson’s daughter
and had little to say

but there she’d be
on the school bus

each day
a few seats in front

looking out
of the window

and you’d gaze at her
and wonder what thoughts

occupied her mind
and what feelings

ran along her nerves
and that time she fainted

and people muttered things
and you caught words

like must be that
time of month

or she gets that way
when it comes around

and you’d think
of moon shapes

and the moon’s pull
and maybe her father’s

long drawn out sermons
were too much for her

and the time
she looked back at you

on the bus
and you noticed there

a multitude of different
worlds and feelings

swirling around
and maybe one of them

was for you
and the way

you too
sat quiet

and said little
not one

for the small talk
or nit-picking chat

and having a bit more
of young love

which others
might lack

and you smiled at her
but she didn’t smile back.