Photo by Nikos Kavvadas on Unsplash

She was the new girl at our school,
Soon after Victory Day.
Perfect skin, blossomy pink and white,
But sprinkled with freckles
Dark hair curled around her face
Braids spilled over her shoulders.
An older girl – at least eleven.

I followed her, copied her manner,
Looked through half-closed eyelids at those around me,
And was rewarded, for she noticed me one afternoon,
Asked me to walk down the lane with her after school.
I thought we would walk home together.
And she would teach me her sophistication.

Indeed, Daphne told me things,
Beguiling new about boys and love,
She burned my ears with knowledge
Balls were not only things to bounce against the wall
As in my favorite game of seven-up.
The word had another definition.
My attention was charmed and claimed.
And as I wondered if I really knew her meaning,
We reached the end of the lane,
Where we should have turned right onto the main road,
But Daphne took my hand, and turned to the left.

My musing faltered as I realized we were on the way to town,
and fretted that my mother did not allow such wandering.
Her cool smile reassured me, I thrilled that I was chosen.
Stood on the sidewalk while she stepped through a shadowy doorway.
Then reappeared with a small suitcase,
And saying we could continue, again she took my hand.

We walked into the greengrocer’s shop.
Daphne told me to ask the man about some apples for my mother
Obedient, I stood in line while I waited my turn.
But before I could talk to him she came,
Hurried me from the store, and to the edge of town.
Her smile still smooth, she said goodbye,
Gave me the suitcase, said it was all for me,
And quickly walked away, while I searched for words to bring her back.

I opened the suitcase, found it full of oranges.
Was pleased to take it home, thinking it a good reason to be late from school.
Mother believed my story, but took the oranges away.

Daphne never came back to school.
No words were said about the escapade.
A long time I thought of her,
Felt somehow responsible
For her disappearance.
Felt my education
Somehow interrupted,
And seven-up was never quite the same.

April 2000