Rosebud, little friend
There will be boys to meet
On stairwells, he’ll pass you
With all his hair
Hiding his eyes
This will go on for some weeks
As he figures out your schedule
And figures out himself
’Til he surprises you
(and himself)
Stopping on the stairwell
With an eloquent “Hey…”

It is then
You might notice his lips

The best of these boys
Are so scared
Send him down the stairs
To dream unending of you

You will never hold so many of the cards again