The boy poet blushed and asked the pretty girl out she smiled and said maybe the boy poet grabbed a pen and scribbled this before tock could follow tick it was real quick
Maybe is a giant oak tree filled with many acorns and each single acorn drops and exclaims yes, yes, yes
The dream What couldn’t be foreseen A touch of lips The first kiss The tiniest hint of gleam A sparkle in the eye When two worlds collide Innocence Eternal bliss Head held high with pride