Smooth, refined elbows rest upon the window sill.

A doll, ruffled and pink, lies

Discarded at her side.

She absent-mindedly scratches where the lace of her dress

Has irritated her skin,

Enviously gazing out the stainless window.

The clear glass fogs as she lets out a sigh.

Clouds of dust rise against the cerulean sky,

Dirt covers their scrungy cut-offs,

Mingling with grimy hair

As each determined runner scurries along the worn base paths.

Dramatic hits and slides determine whether

Shrieks of triumph or groans of disappointment

Erupt from the boys' elastic mouths.

Shifting restlessly, she presses her fingers upon the confining glass,

Hoping it will leave a

Smudge.