*This is a the title of a Jazz song, but it rocks so I stole it.
He thinks about her all the time,
Every day on his way to work.
9 A.M. bright and early,
With just a glimmer of a smirk.
He looks at her and she looks at him,
But they just smile and say nothing at all.
Then they both scamper back to their lives,
Praying that the other will call.
-
She sees him every Sunday,
In the grocery store downtown.
And whenever she walks past,
She can sense him turn around.
She smiles to herself and takes a peek,
Through her invisible rearview mirror.
Every Sunday she hopes he'll talk,
And come just a tad bit nearer.
-
He's known her for about six years,
And many consider them best friends.
If only they knew what the other did,
Instead of always having to pretend.
If he asked her to marry,
She'd probably say yes.
What a shame he never will,
Be able to confess.
-
What a horrific game this love is,
In which the players are all fools.
But even fools can find happiness,
If they follow the basic rules.
What about the rest,
Who don't know what to do?
They continue searching forever,
Possibly searching for you.
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