Notice me

Every weekday at 4pm, I gravitate
Toward my usual place. Ignoring the chit-chat,
My eyes sweep across the hall and hesitate
On a mop of blonde and two pools of grey.
Mesmerized, unable to pull away,
I’m drawn like moths to a dancing flame.
Please don’t notice my staring, I silently pray.
It’s rude, I know, I can’t help but feel this way.
Desperate for distraction, I diddle my gaze downward
At the pile of scrawly notes; but instead, I just see
His beautiful face brushing against the calligraphy.
And there he is again… not noticing me.
The clock strikes quarter to six
He’s always one of the first to leave.
Before I could get his attention, he was gone.
And it takes me a moment
Or two
Or three
To realize: He will never notice me.


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