By Donovan Christoffer (bigsword@iastate.edu) Date: 5 May 1998
She left her purple scrunchee Here one night I didn't see it until Days later I was looking in the mirror One day Out of the corner of my eye I saw it She was gone for The weekend I was missing her Quite lonely I picked up the scrunchee and Held it to my nose The smell of her hair Filled me up Somehow I wasn't quite so lonely anymore