poor woman

Don’t stare at me with those cold eyes.
You don’t know.
For that matter, neither do you care.
So much, I wish you would realize
How much I crave to be you.
My wrinkles are not from laughter,
Although I can see yours will be.
Your books, that blue one…
I could not read if I wanted to.
Everyday I see you pass,
With your pig tails.
I see your mother cares enough to buy you ribbons.
And I?
I don’t even have a mother.
I am my own mother;
My own friend.
But if I were you, and you were me…
I too may not give you much thought.
However, time to time I would spare some change.
Or at least a smile.