I felt like writing a happy poem; here is my offering.

What is Like?

It’s that feeling—
When he passes you in the hall
and you become a tomato
When you feel the spotlight is on you
and him
When you see him, and you get those darn butterflies—
not that you want them to go away
When you remember every time you see him—
what he looked like, what YOU were wearing

When you think you’re in love
but really
You’re too naïve to know it

You don’t know the feeling
Of an unchained melody in your soul
Of being able to see right through him
with a single glance
When your silence can speak
a novel

Like is nice,
But juvenile emotions
Are no match
For
love

Written 3/06 for an English project. NOT for Miche, for once. My teacher Mrs. Anthony is standing over my back reading this, wondering where her name is. Here it is, Mrs. Anthony!