Walking through the hall, 
watching your eyes, 
starting to fall, 
as the instant flies. 
Searching them for a feeling. 
In absolute awe of your face, 
but only blankness finding, 
dismissal smashing like a mace. 
Then you're gone, and I picture you, 
wanting to see something in your eyes, 
instead of them looking me through, 
knowing such thoughts as improbable lies. 
Guess I should know better, 
later I will only feel blue, 
what I'm saying in this letter, 
is I can't help but lock my gaze on you. 

March 15, 1985