Blue-eyed boy, leaning against the wall,
Mind fixed out that dusty window.
Sunlight flickers through the backyard shaw,
Striking the long streaks on the glass,
Painting over the world in blinding white,
Burning out his daydream in a gleaming flash.
And I wonder how his eyes stay dry
As he folds back into his paper house
And finds that girl he loves so nigh,
Yet, closer to her, he cannot bear to move,
As she fumbles around his kitchen,
Calling to him to find her a silver spoon.
“Really, you cannot recall which drawer?”
“Why should I?” she chimes in her way,
As if she had never been there before.
But she had; summer, fall, winter, spring,
Appearing on the steps, doe eyes and a smile,
Thousands of times, if counting his dreams.
And he wonders how, after all of this time,
Her light can still burn him like the sun
With one look, yet on his face never shine
When all he wants is for her to join him
At the window, to see more than searing white,
But she does not; she stays in the kitchen.
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