The Green Girls by Nancy Simpson
A young woman with pale lips
sulks under a Mimosa tree
holding knees close to her breast.
She does not wave at me today
as I drive past. I know why
or think I know, having seen
her sister walking on the road,
head down, tears on her face.
Why have they quarreled?
One is not lovelier than the other.
Both are smart. I heard
their teacher say one could…
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