You once sat on my wall and talked to me;
I was irked because you spoiled my silly game.
The tender age of twelve was what I'd be.
Aged thirteen and I just don't feel the same.
Now you are a dream to teenage eyes.
Your dark good looks awaken teenage love.
I follow you, my head up in the skies,
I seek divine involvement from above.
If only you would turn and notice me,
Or sit once more and chat upon my wall,
How very very happy I would be,
You've grown so very handsome, lean and tall.
We sit in class, you turn and pinch my pen;
Oh joy of joys my world will spin again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.