I felt like writing a poem about this... so... don't flame me please. It's meant more for girls, but I suppose anyone can read it. It's awful though, cause I'm writing this at 2 AM. Sorry in advance.
She stands close by the window pane
and stares at me with big blue eyes.
Her dress is sopping from the rain
and curving round her skinny thighs.
“Mother,” I say softly, “May I please let her in?
She seems as though she’s starving, and we’ve not yet eaten din.”
Mother, looking startled now, turns her gaze to me.
She wears a cold expression like there’s nothing there to see.
“What do you mean?” my mother asks. “I don’t see anyone…”
But I still see her at the window, and I look at what she’s done.
She’s moving closer to the house and opening our door.
She wipes the snow off from her boots and shakes off a bit more.
She hangs her coat up on the rack and pulls off her small hat.
She takes too literally the “welcome” written on our mat.
She tells me that she’s Ana when I ask her for a name.
I ask her what she wants, and she says, “Just to be the same.”
I faintly understand her, and those words I softly utter.
“As the other pretty girls,” I finish as I mutter.
“Dinner time!” my mother yells from the dining room too loud.
My new friend Ana follows me and knits an ebony shroud.
I look at her; she stares right back and slowly shakes her head…
“You really aren’t that hungry.. You better go unfed.”
“Hurry up, dear!” my mother yells. She’s getting impatient now.
I shut my eyes, squeeze them tight, and forget about hunger somehow.
My arms are rather chilly, so I grab a thin jacket of mine.
“Mother, I’m not hungry. Don’t worry though, I’m fine.”
She stands close by the window pane
and stares at me with big blue eyes.
Her dress is sopping from the rain
and curving round her skinny thighs.
“Mother,” I say softly, “May I please let her in?
She seems as though she’s starving, and we’ve not yet eaten din.”
Mother, looking startled now, turns her gaze to me.
She wears a cold expression like there’s nothing there to see.
“What do you mean?” my mother asks. “I don’t see anyone…”
But I still see her at the window, and I look at what she’s done.
She’s moving closer to the house and opening our door.
She wipes the snow off from her boots and shakes off a bit more.
She hangs her coat up on the rack and pulls off her small hat.
She takes too literally the “welcome” written on our mat.
She tells me that she’s Ana when I ask her for a name.
I ask her what she wants, and she says, “Just to be the same.”
I faintly understand her, and those words I softly utter.
“As the other pretty girls,” I finish as I mutter.
“Dinner time!” my mother yells from the dining room too loud.
My new friend Ana follows me and knits an ebony shroud.
I look at her; she stares right back and slowly shakes her head…
“You really aren’t that hungry.. You better go unfed.”
“Hurry up, dear!” my mother yells. She’s getting impatient now.
I shut my eyes, squeeze them tight, and forget about hunger somehow.
My arms are rather chilly, so I grab a thin jacket of mine.
“Mother, I’m not hungry. Don’t worry though, I’m fine.”
