The 'Intermediate' Girls
Their names have escaped me,
the girls I went to school with,
but...their smiles still come to mind.
Beamed at me? Seldom. More
than their names escaped me -
none chose me as boyfriend -
but their smiles still come to mind.
Their laughter could be unkind -
they could smirk behind
the teacher's back - yet
their smiles still come to mind.
We were eleven or twelve,
sopranos and boy-sopranos,
off soon to separate schools.
Seldom seen again on street
or bus, they'd live apart;
I moved away. Powers
were accruing to those smiles.
These the 'intermediate' years,
when boys lagged a bit behind,
watching the girls advance.
Revisiting that town - I wonder
would we have ever been friends,
truly smile in each other's eyes?
Max Richards
Hutt Intermediate School
near Wellington, 1948-49
