Just Seventeen
She was just seventeen
If you know what I mean...
and the way she looked
was way beyond compare.
How could I dance with another WHOOOO!
When I saw her standing there...
...
And I just saw her standing there.
Not seeming to care that she was by herself,
content with the thought of watching others dance
and prancing her hand on her floral rather simple gown.
...
How could I dance with her?
How could I have the conquest of my fear growing with my nervous heart
defeat my coward legs to be commanded by a not so sure knight;
not so sure because he sees no white on his armor.
...
Not knowing that the thoughts of her demeanor must be way beyond compare to mine,
for she is a such a lovely fruit, just waiting to be picked,
ignored by the hungry ones, who couldn't wait but to feed on red enough apples.
I would like to grace my hand with hers...
...
and the way she looked, just sitting there,
me knowing inside, she was sad to watch happiness displayed like I,
that I couldn't help to near myself and sit,
and hope for a reaction of companionship to announce.
...
I wonder if she'll know what I mean If I gesture
that the others looked pleased dancing.
Will she take the hint that we should be pleased too and dance?
I hope so...but I might as well just take this chance.
...
We are both just seventeen...
We could enjoy this dance made for us...
But I must not hesitate and ride on this gust...
If not, I'll regret this silly school crush...
...
Would you like to dance?
It's okay if you say no..
But your dress seems sad,
For not moving with the flow.
A simple look to my side
and it was too late for me to hide,
but her smile brought me back,
especially when she said:
I hoped you would say that.
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