Poetry. That I wrote. Because I needed to write it. Or maybe it needed to be written. I don't know, but here it is:

JANE

She's the girl who knocks on your door
When her mom needs baking soda.
She's the girl who always knows the answer
But keeps on asking, "Why why why?"

Someday, you'll see her walking down the school corridor
And you'll realize she's perfect because she's not.
Because her hair will always be a little frizzy
And her clothes might not quite match,
But her eyes will shine brighter than the sun
And her smile and laughter will make your day...
She's Jane.

And maybe one day you'll happen to catch
A glimpse of her in the rain
With her dorky rainboots that fit her perfectly
And you and her will be the only ones that know that those drops of rain rolling down her cheeks aren't raindrops at all.

And you'll do nothing.
Nothing at all...
Because she's Jane.

And ten years from now you'll see her at your high school reuinion
And she will glow.
She wouldn't be "just Jane," in fact, she never was.
If only you gave her your time.

If only, If only, If only...