I’ve followed you out in the yard,
And then when you mounted the stair,
I thought I was watching an angel,
But you didn’t know I was there.
You moved with such elegant grace,
That I couldn’t help but stare,
You seemed so above and beyond me,
That all that I felt was despair.

We’d pass in the pit of the stairwell,
Your latté, you held in a cup,
When I’d see you coming toward me,
I’d hope, but you’d never look up.
My heart would rebound in my ribcage,
I’d turn and I’d stare at your back,
I wondered how I could approach you
And worked on a plan of attack.

Perhaps I could trip, and I’d stumble,
And push you right into the wall,
Then clutch at you, ever so humble,
And tell you that I was appalled.
At least I could get you to see me,
You couldn’t ignore me again,
But when it came down to it, clearly,
An angel’s beyond mortal men.

The love that I felt was like heartburn,
It plagued all my nights and my days,
I’d torture myself with each notion,
And plotted in various ways,
I constantly thought of your beauty,
And hardened myself to the task,
‘I wondered,’ I said, ‘ if you knew me?’
You sighed, ‘I thought you’d never ask.’

David Lewis Paget