Grade Nine

A light breese through the grass
Warm sun on my face
Yesterday has passed
A new day comes with grace

The wind blowing nicely
Not a cloud in the sky
My friends waving precisely
As I pass them by

I come back to them
And don't even hear "Hi"
I hear shouting and bickering
Not a single reply

Then one runs off crying
And two others follow
The rest continue to fight
Never knew more so shallow

I try to stop it
But my plea goes unheard
The guys walk up to us
Thinking we're absurd

Then one walks up closer
And breaks up with me
The misery of grade nine
And my unheard plea.

-Alison