The sunlight dotted the plain

and yet her voice was missed

throughout it all

Bonnie stared at the tennis shoes on her feet,

bright in color

yet dull in spirit

They were little reminders of the sacrifices

She didn't see the other girl,

quicker on her feet

nor did she see the wave

directed at her.


Bonnie watched the stickers light the page,

nine years old already

She'd told her parents just this year

that she wanted to move far away,

become exotic to others for once

Her mother had cried when she told her they can't

She never did ask then

about the girl that sat next to her in class,

all tall lithe frame and beautiful, long black hair

Bonnibel didn't even know her name.


She stared at the other girls

passing playful insults around

and giggly girly topics

She found her eyes reverted to her own frame

long, but plushy,

somewhat pale skin

though just pink enough to appear almost tan

She felt misformed from where

pale purple pink dusted her skin

and where strings lazily looped

She didn't see the girl that looked at her

as if she was more

than that silly fragment

nor did she realize that

she wasn't alone all this time.


She stares at a card, written by some hand that she doesn't recognize,

all red almost glitter

and cheesy love lines

that spelled optimism

Bonnie felt a tug in her heart,

a realization that the boy that had signed it

in dorky, not quite cursive

was not one that she'd fall for

She didn't see the black valentine

with pink words

hastily scribbled on

as it was put in her locker.


Bonnie stares at her shoes as her classmates talk

and feels more alone than ever,

everyone has a boyfriend

or at least everyone in her class

but her

She does see long, pale legs

before a body stretches out beside her

and hears the whisper of

"Do you want to be on my team?"


Bonnie doesn't know

when she learns

that some music is best heard

at 3am

or when she realizes

that pink looks best

next to black

She doesn't know when rock bands

begin to consist of a large portion of her attire

and forgets when Saturdays became a day for loud music

and huddled close bodies

from the fragility of the moment.


She does know that when she comes home,

supper's usually on the stove

and arms tend to loop around her waist,

pulling her close

in a tight embrace

and that the whispers that greeted her

in her ears mean more than perhaps the band shirts did

She feels warm

as she watches pale arms hold just slightly darker skin

closer.


Bonnie does not feel like a time exists anymore

where she didn't wear a ring on her finger

or see two dark heads when she pulls into the drive

or when she felt alone

She watches them

for a silent moment

apart from her wife

and sees the joy

that lights up all three faces

as if nothing could be brighter.