Pretty pink bows pinned perfectly on silky hair.
Oh, the glory, the beauty, but mother won’t let me experience my share.
After a long explanation
She did not take my request into consideration.
Instead I was given old hair clips that will not last.
I am officially an outcast.
All the girls own pink bows so why can’t I?
I would buy the bows myself, but all I have is ten nickels and a dime.
A frown on my face due to my gloom
As I walk towards my classroom.
There is something different I see up ahead.
I don’t see any pink blurs on heads.
I come closer and see
The resolution to the mystery.
Pink bows were traded.
I’m beginning to feel glad I had not participated.