the girl sat quietly in the corner

playing with her hair

the others danced around her

nobody seemed to care.

the boy perched himself on the sidelines

patiently waiting for the ball

the others played around him

as if he was only two-feet tall.

the girl’s hair now tightly braided

the dancing continued on

she sat there getting darker

would anyone miss her when she’s gone?

the boy’s legs now getting tired

the playing, it kicked on

he stood there getting sadder

would anyone miss him when he’s gone?

the girl untied her braid

and slowly left the corner

the boy forgot about the ball

his mother too young to be a mourner.

then somewhere between that momemt

of individual dark despair

the sad girl met the sad boy:

she liked his height, and he, her tassled hair.