Thrills of the Day

A morning crisp of brezy winds and dark sky,

Excited for what the day holds.

The yellows that travel by,

Never late for the intersection of two fates,

Never missing the chance of the unspoken greetings,

In comes the start of learning,

Counting the clock for the many encounters of the rush hour halls,

Scouting him out of a sea of students to instantly regret

The akward moment of eye locking,

Never to share a word,

The day ends when the last sounds of bells had rung.

Hopeing for another day ,

Only to restart the cycle of moments like these,

Untill one day the pattern is broken by one brave soul.

This poem is about: 
Me

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