What is the chance
that I will be your wife,
if the bus loads loads
pretty faces everyday;
who pass and look
at your way
for what a charm
your face holds?
What is the chance
that your love
shall remain constant
when it hasn't even
started?
I wonder,
if you even notice
that i've been tracking
you down.
Or perhaps,
you're used to something
like this.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Good stuff, Melanie... things we think about during periods of infatuation. Well done! ! Brian