She was sitting alone.
In a park, among the green grass, in front of a tree.
Leaves of brown, orange, and green fell around her.
She was a younger girl,
Maybe 10 years of age.
Her back was toward the street,
So no one could see her face.
Her head buried into her lap.
There were whimpers and cries, but she was trying to hold in her tears.
There was a picture.
Her hands grasped that worn out picture like she was never letting go.
Never ever never.
There was a grave buried deep in the green grass as well.
It sat about a foot in front of her little criss crossed legs.
On top of the grave sat a dandelion.
Still yellow, but alone and wilting.
Just like that little girl.