i fell in love with him
on a cold december morning,
when the sun was just peering through
much as i was,
catching a glimpse of his green eyes
and goofy grin,
and too-big ears,
and freckled face.

i  fell in love with him
on a breezy february afternoon,
when i was at a show,
and he asked to sit next to me,
our eyes locking,
hearts thumping,
bodies twitching nervously,
as i whispered,
"sure."

i fell in love with him
on a warm march evening,
when we crossed paths again,
and he sang sweet melodies softly to the audience,
never knowing i was there,
and never will know
i was there,
clinging onto his every note and movement.

i fell in love with him
as many others did,
as many of the books i read would tell me i would,
as many humans foolishly have over the centuries,
as many will continue to do.

isn't it strange?