She sits at the table
Slowly Sips her drink
Makes me wonder
Is there more to this beauty?
Never known her touch
Never spoken a word to her
But still
There is something that attracts
Like a moth
To an open flame
I'm afraid to stare
But catch passing glances
Of someone
Someone who seems to lovely
To be interested in a teenager
Just budding into himself
Who is to confused
To make up his own mind
So I'll sit and wait
For my beauty to come to me.
