If I were taller, maybe she would look,

or managed to reduce my weight a bit.

The trouble is, I really like to cook;

with what I eat, I never will be fit.

Instead of showing off my ready wit

I’m so tongue-tied I’ll never make her see.

Despite all this, I know I just won’t quit

believing she’s the only one for me,

and if there was some hope, I’d love her endlessly.

 

Why won’t he speak? I just can’t work it out.

I’ve tried to smile each time he looks my way,

but then he turns away and I am left in doubt.

He turned up there again just yesterday,

and yes, I know it sounds like a cliché;

I seemed to sense him coming through the door

before I spotted him. I’d like to say

something to give my heart a chance to soar,

but know I’d only find a whimper, not a roar.