You left a book at my window,
a book quite fresh smelling, minty,
Smooth pearly white pages,
And a lovely story to read.
I doubted what the book would hold
but nevertheless, I opened it
and immediately, I was spun
Into a tale of smiles, joy, laughter
of a boy whose eyes twinkled and charmed
And he was smooth in his talking, jocular in manner,
and never failed to make me admire.