She saw me once standing there, helping her mother
out of the bus and she smiles at me with her crooked teeth.
Her blonde hair waves to me in the frisky wind
And her purple blouse screams to me diva in one direction
I thought she'd be nice, but no her tongue and her voice
boisterous and bitter rang out while another comes by.
Blanche, my frenemy, I could never call you a witch
for those times you've appologized were none.
I remember your voice and your unkind ways
Left others walking away from you.
I was sorry for Blanche for her stress she created more
more to the eye I could not ignore.
There were a few times you would talk and be nice
but boy you are ever a character I can't forget.
Your voice still rings in my ears.