Presbyterian Pete

(This poem is fictional and any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.)

I’ll tell you the story
Of Presbyterian Pete.
He came to church early
Just to get his seat.

He stayed in that spot
The whole service long
Not bothering to stand
Even for a song.

About half way down
And next to the isle
There he would sit
Intent all the while

On keeping his spot
No matter what
He wouldn’t scoot over
He was stuck in a rut.

God help the soul
Who is caught
By accident or by chance
Sitting in that spot.

Then along came
Isabel Elsie Sprout
A new church member
She left little doubt

That she was strong
At just under 5 foot tall
She was bold and courageous
Not intimidated at all

Now all will remember
That fateful day
When Isabel sat
Some people say

Pete’s faced turned bright red
He stuttered and stammered
He swayed and he rocked
He turned and he clamored

But Isabel sat and then
Patting the seat next to her
She said with a smile.
“You can sit right here, dear!”

Pete, reluctantly,
Sat in that spot
What happened next?
I can’t tell you a lot

It was amazing
I do know this for sure.
A couple they became
And married the next year.

And now every Sunday
They take any seat
Cause they all seem just right
For Isabel and Pete.

Perry O. Ross
August 18, 2006