I watched others being chosen. I was ignored.
I hoped. I waited.
Sometimes they wanted girls, sometimes boys.
Sometimes they wanted a brother and a sister under
I was too young.
I was too old.
Sometimes they looked for a child who had blue eyes.
Sometimes they looked for a child who had curly hair.
They looked and whispered that I was too short.
They said I was too fat.
Sometimes I was too tall or just “Not quite right.”
I wished that someone would come see me and choose me.
I don’t have much hope anymore.
They took some away.
They took little babies.
They took pretty girls.
They even took young boys.
I am not sure where they took them.
They said they go across America.
They said some even go to other countries.
When I had hope, I hoped I could just go.
That was before I knew that I was too young or too
old, or too tall or too short, too fat or ” Not quite
My hope gone.
I was the child left behind.