W a l k i n g
He'll glance,
Every chance he gets.
A peep from the corner of his eye,
a slight sweep over the dusty library books.
But no smile.
A flat unresponsive mouth.
His eyes will twinkle,
the corners of his eyes will laugh.
but no smile.
W a l k i n g past me.
Grazing my hand with his own,
he'll look back,
but not smile.
And I'll think
Why?
My question to him.
Is it my hair or
these hideous high-waisted pants I wear?
My question to you everyday,
all day.
Why don't you smile back?