The way he looks at me,
Flirtatious and full of life,
He doesn't yet know me,
Nor my fabulous gay life.

He is not gay- that I can tell,
But the way he looks at me,
I’m under his spell.

The sparkle in his eyes,
The secrecy of his smiles,
Butterflies in me churn,
Ones which fly for miles.

We have never spoken,
But I can't start now,
Because he wouldn't accept me,
Not then, not now.

He is so kind,
Filled with courage,
Rugby ball in his hand,
In the gym he takes his stand,
Well, what can I say,
That is my boy.