Park

Every day on the way to work I pass by a park.
And everyday in that very park there is a little girl.
She smiles as I walk past, skipping a rope, tied to a tree.
Every day on the way to work I see a little girl skipping rope in the park.
She swings it up and down as she laughs like she would, playing with some little friends.
She is there every day and so am I.
Every day on the way to work I see a little girl skipping rope in the park.
I remember how she smiled when I gave it to her.
It was my rope and now it is hers.
She tied the loose end around a tree to swing it.
Every day on the way to work I see a little girl skipping rope in the park.
Every day.
This day on the way to work I saw a little girl hanging from a rope in the park.
I gave her that rope.
She tied the loose end around her neck.
The rope still is swinging and so is she.
Every day on the way to work I saw a little girl skipping rope in the park.
This day on the way to work I pass by the park and this day there was no girl.
And this day there was no rope.

And on that day on the way to work, I knew that she would never smile again...