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.