There she sits, always across
The room from me, distant
Enough that I can’t really tell
If she’s looking at me and smiling
Or if that wily smiling fetching
flirt is someone else’s to tackle,
for the moment. I gather, only
to disperse, my thoughts and fears.
Just so, her legs aren’t impossibly
Long; hair tousled in a fashionable way.
Smidge of ennui flickers on her face
I sigh; I rise to take her hand.
A dubious idea rather dismissed
ere I destroy her charmerie.
In my mind I blow her a kissher eyelashes acknowledge me softly.