The Bench
We sat on the bench
outside the cafe
crossed legged
facing each other,
knees touching –
a diamond of
mother-daughter.
She was five.
I took her small
hands in mine
to tell her that
her ”best friend”
had not invited her
to the sleepover party.
Overall, she took that
first heartbreak
much better than I.
Jannie Funster March 2009
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