There's a girl sitting on the floor,

Reading is no longer a chore.

She dives into each book,

Before waiting to find a nook.

Where she may sit for an hour,

As the powerful characters devour.

What's left of her lonely feeling.

But who notices the concealing?

There's a girl sitting on the floor.

Pencil in hand always wanting to explore.

Experimenting with different techniques,

Hoping no one critiques.

Even though she will never show,

She wishes to bestow,

The masterpiece has created.

Realizing she is alone, that wish is deflated.

The tears soon begin to streak,

But who will wipe them off her cheek?

There is a girl sitting on the floor,

She doesn't know what to do anymore.

Praying she won't be alone,

Otherwise no one will read her stone.

A shadow passes over her face.

Arms help her to her feet and embrace,

Piecing her soul and heart.

Carefully without missing a part.

Who could this possibly be?

There is a girl no longer on the floor,

Who has a new feeling deep in her core.

She believes this new emotion,

Could finally out her into motion,

Of keeping herself high above,

And using this thing called love.