School games

I hurtle, unwilling ball hit with the racquet of contempt. Flying helplessly

towards the past, overtaken by small unkindnesses

I am again a seven year old. Outcast by the playground wall, eying up

confidence with curiosity. Perfect pigtails take wing

in rounds of merriment,

jeers and joking, laughter and lies, merry misery of games without fun

and I play alone. Who talks of the ‘innocence of children’?

Such who do suffer false memory, yet I KNOW.  Set up for mockery,

 humiliation of a tender heart;

wishing invisibility, edging slowly towards cold haven classroom,

I am halted by the sound of my name. She tosses dark hair from honest eyes.

“Would you like one?” Cautiously, I accept a lifetime of friendship.