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There was this girl I knew, Her hair all curly and strewn. On these grounds, she was far from new, as we all noticed her eyes of such vibrant hue. Yet to her there was a quiet mien, one that could never be screened. Expressions of such silent themes, to us it might be impossible it seems. She always had a doll in her hands, it's hair she could plaid in a matter of ten. Although she would roam the street weeks on end, No one ever knew from where she went? Perhaps, she lived in a place beyond our land, and left for it only when we were sleeping in our dens. We could poke, but she never spoke, leaving us alone in her mysterious c