Outshining the Sun.
Bob West said
why are you always
looking towards
the girl's playground?
Looking for someone
you replied
who? Bob asked
A girl who gets
on my school bus
Bob pulled a face
and combed
his black oily hair
is she good looking?
Like an angel
you said
and peered
at the playground
across the way
where girls were
skipping or walking
in pairs
See her yet?
Bob asked
no not yet
you muttered
wishing you had
hoping she'd come
into view
don't see any point in girls
Bob said
putting his comb away
in a top pocket
wiping his hands
on his grey trousers
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poem by Terry Collett
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