She came with a backpack that used to be pink
And ribbons in her hair and a fresh smile to
Match her clean but stubbornly stained dress.
She was eager, friendly and foreign
She held her grandmother’s hand tightly
Until it was time to let go and be with the rest.
She was different in all the ways that mattered
And the same in all the ways that mattered
And neither of those things would ever be noticed
If they weren’t pointed out
By well meaning adults
Who don’t mean so well at all.