by Eric Y. Theriault

Standing amongst a crowd,
I find it hard to think,
that our eyes meet,
for no reason.
Mine had reason,
yet I tell you not,
of my interests for you.
As words slip by your lips,
I find it quite hard to resist,
stopping them with a kiss.
The thought of you
makes me look forward to tomorrow,
and that perhaps tomorrow,
you shall be with me.