The Big Head Little Girl

The Big Head Little Girl short poem

Photo by FaceMePLS

She was four and I was six.
We held hands and ate pixie stix.
The big head little girl whom followed me around the corner.
Soon we became friends.

We held hands with skin like bricks.
I cleansed her hands inside mine.
The words we didn’t know how to pronounce until we were older.
The house across the street covered in thick brick.
Our parents always pictured us together.

I cleansed her hands inside of mine.
The big head little girl across the street.
Her hair in a tight colorful scrunchy. Hair spread all over her head.
We both had to be in before the street lights came on.
Head full of dirt.faces darker than they were before we met each other outside.

Our clothes covered in dirt and grime.
Our fingers filled with splinters.
The chime of laughs and smiles.
The big headed girl whom loved pink and purple pixie stix whom followed me around until the street lights came on.
She always gave me the blue ones and called me her friend.

I remember the time I never wanted you to follow me around.
Often threatening to feed you to my dog.
Pushing you off the swing.
Stealing your turn sliding down the slide.
You never let me go anywhere alone.

Here I am, now older. Picturing the big headed messy hair girl whom always followed me around.
Truthfully I never minded.
Even now, ringing your doorbell in thought

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