The girl was wilted and washed
Her shoulders thin and fingers frail
The forward tilt of her body like that of a grass stalk
Long legs carrying her carefully in her quiet walk

She breathed of misuse
Of reeking memories and stained goodbyes,
Eyes sad and face drawn
Looking much like a lost fawn

But her hair was nice
Eyes just the perfect shade,
Skin of ivory too
Even if her lips were blue

Her drawn depression was the regular
Something little noticed even by her mother
The blue she wore being nothing of news
For all she had was more of the same hues

The string on her finger was silent of course



But she used it a little every day
Hand over hand she climbed from her hole
Carefully mending her own soul

The boy was bright and unafraid
His shoulders broad and hands for healing
Strong body built for care
Of all evils he was unaware

Gentle of heart and gentle of body
He was not made for a world such as ours
Of such wrongs and scary things
It was a wonder he didn’t have wings

So it is true
That this unlikely pair
Was led with the utmost care
By the strings, on their little fingers bare

They met through their eyes
Each smiling at something when they caught each others gaze
And slowly their smiles became for one another
Instead of his for his friends and hers for her brother

She helped him to have somebody
And he cared for her with tenderness
Her learning to give a second chance
And him finding out how to dance