Sits next to her,
drumming his pencil on the desk,
tapping his foot on the ground
in time to the old song
on the radio.
Sits next to him,
tracing the shape of a heart on her desk,
twirling a lock of hair around her fingers
as she waits for him
to notice her.
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I had no idea what this contest was about, but I hope this poem will qualify.





5 old applause
