a girl

As I glanced over, I noticed a girl.
She sat alone, by the end of the row.
Morning service–usually shows the ones who go alone.
Confused I thought, “Does she feel alone?
Did she come this early to escape the crowds?”

I pause for a moment, look ahead, then back again.
“Perhaps,” I think, “She likes to come alone.  No need to suppose.”

I frown, I look away; perplexed.  I want to know.
Did she chose to come alone?
Does she like to come alone?
Does it matter if she came alone?
I wish to know.

I rest my gaze on Pastor Mark,
“What was it that he said?”

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