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Math.
February 2, 2011
Rushing through,
math problems below my level,
I finish and shove my binder,
deep into my bag,
and rush to grab the open seat, next to you,
your face lights up as soon I sit,
our hands brush,
and my cheeks flush a deep ruby red,
the bell rings,
you walk with me down the hall,
I'm so happy,
until a tap on your shoulder,
you turn and kiss her,
and I move on to my bus,
and start to do the math,
of how much of a chance I might, have
© Jeanette M., Phoenix, AZ
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