The boy I almost met.

When out on a walk,

A boy I did spy,

With golden brown hair,


And a storm in his eye.

We could walk in the rain,

And never get wet,

Under a sky of golden stars,

Like being sent to the moon on a luxury jet.

Sitting under a great big oak,

Staying up until midnight, and past,

Hand in hand just staring at each other,

You’ll find that the time goes rather fast.

But suddenly I found I had to go back,

Just when things started to go fine,

My dreams would have to wait till another night,

Because we’d run out of time.