Wow, first news post in a long time, but it's time for a change. Subject matter of this here poem is pretty obvious, so let me just say that I am not the narrator and it is not about anybody in particular. Tell me what you think.

Through Window-Glare
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
She leaves home at 5:20
and returns at 3:15.
We've never met,
but I know a lot about her;
she's the most amazing girl
I've ever seen.

I've seen her getting on the bus,
heading into school,
and going home at the end of class.

And she still looks divine
from such a distance away,
but holding her is what I think about
every minute of every day.

I've seen her walking through the streets,
walking through the store,
and walking home at the end of the day.

And she still looks amazing
through the crowd and the trees,
but to look is not enough
to rid me of this disease.

She gets to school at 7,
and gets out at 2 o' clock.
We have something special;
a relationship of sorts.
I've known her for months,
though we've yet to talk.

I've seen her in the kitchen,
walking through her halls,
and all alone inside her room.

And she's still so perfect
through window-glare,
but I want to hold those hands
and smell that hair.

I've seen her waking in the morning,
getting dressed to go to school,
and falling asleep at night.

And she's still such an angel,
even through walls to keep us apart,
but observation's not enough
to remove this pain from my heart.

So tomorrow when she gets home,
we'll meet on her steps at 3:15.
And I'll be nice
and get myself in.
I'll be the happiest guy
she's never seen.