When we first met,
I was a lonely child.
Just a small girl,
dreaming of the world.
We played together,
out on the streets.
Me on my scooter,
and you on yours.

But then…

Your father came to me.
“My son,” he gruffly said,
“does not befriend
Chinese people like you.”

I looked at myself,
feeling his harsh words
tear apart my chest
and saw you standing there.

You overheard it all.
I quietly loved you
as a dear friend.
Yet, you obeyed him.

And presently…

Rising in the morning,
I spied you down the street.
Two grown teenagers,
in far different worlds.
I, to my loud words.
You, to your hushed studying.
We’ve once friends, yes.
But we’re now two strangers.