This is a song... I think. It was inspired by a poem my friend wrote called "Newly Drawn Lines". Scroll down some more for that after my poem.

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Wet Chalk Stains

It’s a lazy afternoon
And the sun is bright and new.
A little girl is out there
With a world her own she drew.

She started off at the driveway
With her damsel in distress.
Now she’s moving down the road
With her periwinkle dress.

Next comes the white knight
Upon his sturdy steed
And the wicked witch behind them
Cackling as they flee.

Look around;
Rain drops start to slowly fall
On the ground
Puddles start to sprout and grow.

The witch goes first
She disappears
Melting into small green
Tears.

Then the white knight
And his mighty horse
Vanish into sweet
Remorse.

The princess flees
Not swiftly enough,
For soon she too turns to
Dust.

Look around;
Rain drops start to swiftly fall
On the ground
Puddles start to flood around.

Little girl, bring
Back to life
The white knight
And the princess.

Little girl, please
Revive
The witch and let the
Mighty steed survive.

Little girl, skips
Away
Her periwinkle dress
Got stained.

Look around;
Rain drops start to slowly dry
On the ground
Puddles start to shrivel up.

Newly drawn lines
On the concrete,
Wet chalk stains
Left incomplete.

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And this is my friend's song - "Newly Drawn Lines".

"Newly Drawn Lines"

It's Monday morning,

And the sidewalk yearns for walking.

He's already out there,

Riding newly drawn lines into faded portraits.

Look Around,

Puddles Grow,

Made of Tears or rain?

He'd love to know.

Each new bite,

Of life is rigidly bland as the last.

His shirt spotted in all places,

Reminiscent of the stained failures past.

In his shoe a gaping hole,

Where his sock protrudes like the sword,

In his heart,

That's dull edge melts at the heat of love.

Its wednesday morning,

And the sidewalk yearns for walking.

He's already out there,

Riding newly drawn lines into faded portraits.

Look around,

puddles grow,

Made of tears or Rain?

He'd love to know.

In his shoe a gaping hole,

where his sock protrudes like the sword,

In his heart,

Thats' dulll edge WILL melt at the heat of love.

Its Friday morning,

And the Sidewalk yearns for walking.

I AM already out there,

AND I AM riding newly drawn lines into faded portraits.

Look around,

Puddles Grow,

Of tears or Rain?

I'D love to know.

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So there. Tell me how you like it! If you do. Remember, the FIRST one is mine. The second one is my friend's - but mine is based on his.