Again in that class of 42,
Let me fix my skirt and shoes,
And whimsically juggle with the scrutiny,
Of kids trapped in teenage limbo.

Hair left loose,
Sways over my shoulder,
As I embark on an imaginary adventure
To the lands of culture.

In a light blue classroom,
By a windless window,
I hear gossip being spewed,
While my eyes look for you.

To come to you and talk,
To ask you how you been,
Seems like a dream,
A little out of reach.

If I don't speak,
And you don't see me,
I shall now pin all my hope,
To the magic of telepathy.

Someday after school,
I will come to you and say,
I like the way you think,
With your hand on your chin.

I shall stare at you,
For more than a second or two,
And when your eyes meet mine,
You must instantly know,
That your life and mine are meant to intertwine.

And if this plan of mine doesn't come through,
Well then, that’s okay too,
I will complete our story,
In the confines of my mind,
And just keep you out of the loop