It is not some elegant romance tale,
But just a moment of real, given hope.
In the stupid bowling fun night tangle,
Humbled in each well-foiled forward lope.
The glance was almost kind and out of him,
Not the callous flirtations of our own,
But a human touch of his compassion,
That escaped my notice and world renown.
Could it be that a heart lives in the beast,
That managed only to scorn all before,
At his arrogance before now I’d flee,
But now I wish to see behind the door.
Perhaps in time I could see what’s in him?
But no, for now he has withdrawn within.