Poem


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.