Her eyes,
follow you,
across the crowd.
And you,
your curiosity,
can’t help it.
She blushes,
turns away,
didn’t see,
the glint,
in your own.
Is this,
the start,
of a cliché,
garbage,
romance?
Big brown eyes,
can only see,
what the daytime,
can’t.
Girl’s a daydreamer,
in the search,
of a night owl,
dance.