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?”