I had my eye on him since the third grade, but I never told him how I felt
Back then girls were girls, they were never meant to be cheeky or bold
He sat behind me in math class, while he counted numbers on the board
I counted the beats of my heart each time he leaned in to ahum, cheat,

"I love the way your hair smells like rain"
he'd half whispered into his copybook
As he copied another math answer
he sent me thoughts laced with love

I was just a beginner with no flowery words or poems for Carlton cards
dad always said a good girl should be sensible and be good at accounts
As my daydreams accumulated like daisies on a windblown field of gold
I began to scrawl his name with a HB pencil, on my composition book...

"I love the way you smart me over "
he whispered a little octave higher
as he gleamed and then tried on his own
the intricate equation of math's design

I grew up and left to live in Nevada.  For years I never set eyes on Enzo again
then one day I happened to open a magazine and there he was all grown up
He had become a bank tycoon with a boat and a car and a big orphan house
So, I wrote him a letter and inside I added the first poem I ever wrote.

"I love it when you lean over my shoulder "
for some reason that I cannot phantom,
I get visions of you and me it a vat of grapes
If you did not exist, I'm sure I'd make you up

as for the poems I never wrote, well, after all our years together,
when I look into his deep blue eyes, I know he knows each one by heart...