Miss Smith Poem by Thomas Brown

The Tailor:

Is red your colour, Miss Smith?
Or do you prefer white?
Crimson,
Or a purple velvet;
I don't know,
That's why I'm asking.
Miss Smith.

The Stranger:

I don't care,
Miss Smith.
You can try, and try;
Miss Smith.
But all you shall do is try,
And get no-where.
My dearest Miss Smith.

The True Friend:

Who do you allow in,
Miss Smith?
Despondent, lost.
In need of a care,
Just like you,
My Dear Miss Smith.

The friend, who was the stranger:

I do not know you,
Miss Smith.
I do not care for you,
Miss Smith.
All that I know,
is that you are;
Miss Smith.


The Stranger, formally the True Friend:

Where are the fields?
And the flowers;
That is what I need to know.
Miss Smith?
When will this winter end;
Then I shall know you,
Miss Smith.

The False Friend:

I knew an angel once,
Miss Smith.
She shared your name,
And your face;
But they she become nothing,
Or nothing became her;
I forget which...probably both.
I digress,
My good Miss Smith,
Where were we...
Ah Yes, tell me of your day.

The Gossip, who is also the False friend:

I do not hate you, Miss Smith! !
I want your tales!
(and tails)
DID HE MRS SMITH! !
There is love,
And then there is-
Miss Smith! !
More of this.

The Awkward Narrator:

What a strange state of affairs,
What shall come next?
(Because we should care) ,
Or will she grow! !
(All I know, Is that It rains)

The Stage Directions:
[It rains]

The Friend, who was the stranger,
and is now the stranger again,
(Much to their delight,
though it pains them to say) :

Its raining outside Miss Smith;
Come inside.
It is not kindness! !
But you are an eyesore;
drowning outside;
What your crying?
And it's raining! !
I can't allow that
Miss Smith,
Come inside at once;
It is not kindness Miss Smith.

Thomas Brown (C) 2010