The 15-year-olds.

"Girl I like your dress.
I like your hair."
And I’ll tell you as you walk by.

Girl, I like your face,
But you won’t look my in the eye.

You are writing on a notepad,
Skipping through the corridor.

You only stop talking about your wonderful ideas,
Just to say thank you
As I admire on your heels.

And you just keep on walking after that idea of yours that you find so exciting...
So kindly,
Without noticing a thing.

But an older woman saw.
She was standing in the hall with us.
She saw the youthful sweet exchange.
And a happy recognition of a memory danced across her face.

And she grabbed her husband’s hand
And she saw me so smitten and excited.
About a girl in church.
And about the
whole
dang
world.

And she knew.
That I am as exactly as her husband was.

Oh girl.
Oh girl.
You run down the hall,
In love with life.

You don’t even notice that I’ve fallen.
On my face.
And how much I enjoy Sunday,
Especially the little hallway chase.
I have some pretty sweet plans a’comin’.

When I turn sixteen,
I'm going ask you on a date.

I'll say.
"Girl I like your dress.
I like your hair.
And I like you too.
In all of the storming off you do.
Please go on a date with me.
Now that we are both sixteen."

Oh girl.
Oh girl.
You don’t see a thing today,
Cause I’m  not saying it all the way.
But someday…
I’ll ask you…

on a date.