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But no, for now he has withdrawn within.

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