She stands there,
Head pressed against the cool glass,
Looking down into the hall.
He's sitting at a plastic table,
Laughing with his friends.
"Like me, please like me, look up if you like me,"
She whispers under her breath.
He turns, waves over a friend.
But doesn't look up,
He never looks up.
She stands, waiting, watching.
Her whispered chant, her mantra,
A silent desperate plea.
He won't look up.
He doesn't even know she's there.
His eye's on someone else.
Her long *****-blonde hair.
Catching her eye, he winks.
While above she's waiting.
Praying, hopelessly hoping,
To be on the other side of his stare.