• His eyes, they twinkle.
    His mouth, it smiles.
    I may try to show it to
    Him on paper but it
    Only crinkles.

    The love blooms,
    A flower always within me.
    My breath is held,
    As he walks in the room.

    Across the room he leans,
    Towards them, not me.
    I crave his attention and
    For he is not mean.

    His face is kind.
    His heart is strong.
    For him I am but
    a fool less than blind.

    As I sit,
    I write.
    My paper becomes a candle,
    My pen becomes fire.
    And my love for him,
    A candle he lit.