My First Friend

I remember her,

My first friend.

Her chubby cheeks,

Dirt stained.

Hair unwashed,

Messy brown.

On her lips

Embedded a frown.

But there was something

In her eyes,

Grey, jaded,

Quiet guise.

And I often wondered

For what she saved her voice,

A piggy bank,

Or some special toys?

And I'd be jealous of

Who were rewarded

With more than just nods

And gestures guarded.

But then also

She was my first friend,

Sharing my words,

The scars that we'd mend.

And then she'd walk away

At the end of the day

Trailing behind her mother,

From one house to another.

Until one day,

She stopped coming.

Unquestioned and unanswered

Her presence faded.

But every morning,

My eyes are still searching,

For a familiar face

In the sea of urchins.