He walks by and I give him an small smile
we sit side by side
I stare at him and when he looks over I quickly turn around
Like nothing happened
He steals my books and I through his on the ground
And we laugh till one of us falls into the floor
With his red hair and sweet smile
I wish I could stay for awhile

On a bad day, time
seems to slow.

On a good day, time
      decides to fly.

      What if we could trick
   time by finding enjoyment
in the bad days.

Maybe then we
   could live our lives
      just a little bit longer.

I always knew I could
weave magic with a pen,
but I never realized that
the magic could pull
tears from dry eyes,
or pain from numb hearts,
or warmth from cold souls,
or inspiration from empty minds.