I stood with laces double-tied,

Hope knotted up and tucked inside.

The chalk was fresh, the field was wide—

But somehow, I was brushed aside.

One by one, the names were said,

And each one turned a hopeful head.

Each name but mine, a quiet thread,

Unspooling silence in its stead.

They didn’t laugh, they didn’t tease—

They just forgot me with such ease.

Like I was air, like I was breeze—

Something that moves but no one sees.

And when they called my name at last,

It sounded like a spelling cast—

Wrong and rushed, said just to pass,

Like I was clutter from the past.

But still I stood, I took my place,

A smile practiced on my face.

Invisible, but not erased—

I ran, I played, I held my grace.