When we were just ittle ones in preschool, we would hold hands.
We would share our secrets, and our cookies.
We would whisper about the boys that chased us around the playground.
We would push each other on the swings, and I would let you ride my bike.
I would follow you and your friends, as you walked along the top of the wall.
We would help each other pull out our first loose tooth, then sit under a tree just talking.
Then we started school. We held hands the first day, afraid of elementary.
Everything went fine and we lasted the year.
Then came second grade. I walked up to you and grabbed your hand.
You yanked it away.
"GROSS! Don't hold my hand! We are in second grade now!"
Those words tore through my heart, and I cried for a long time.
You started growing, and wearing make-up.
I watched you as you and your friends pranced around school, wearing tight skirts.
Soon you became a "popular girl" and forgot about me.
