He stands tall, I look away,
I feel like I could fall,
My legs sway.
Who,
With a look like that would be there?
Why don’t people stick to him like glue?
With such perfect hair.
I wish I were there, with them.
I ask the questions again to myself.
My hand goes to my shirt’s hem.
He’s walking over,
What should I do?
I hold a four leaf clover.
All I did was look down at my shoe.
They passed me by.
Not a word,
Not a cry.
I felt completely backward.
What happened next,
Well who really knows.
But I scrunched my nose and curled my toes.
Another day maybe,
We’ll talk.
And he will agree,
To go on a walk.
Oh how I wish,
To be with that group,
But now I am clownish.
How my shoulders droop.
I feel lost.
And now I found out
How much it cost
I have steam coming from my spout.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
nice piece your a great poet