She was a little girl. Small, insignificant,
But with a fire in her eyes that most
Could not see.

Every day
               She walked home from school
                              Alone.
               At least, it appeared that way
To most―those who watched, but didn't see.

Every day, she would go
               To her house at the end of
The road.

Every day, she would throw her
Ball into the cornfield next to
The house, before running to join it.

But what the watchers
             Didn't know
Was that the day she
Disappeared
               Was the day
Something
               Threw the ball
                                            back.

Fixed the format of this one. Expect to see a surge in updates for this book; I'm posting all the poems I've done for my creative writing class.
-Avalon Lee