Oxford Girl – A love poem?

The moment I took notice

Of your pretty smile

Was when I caught you grinning

And reasoned about why.

Was it something I had done?

No, of course that wasn’t true.

You didn’t even see me there,

Four paces behind you.
The stairway up the tower,

Was rather dark and tight.

Just like those skinny jeans you wore,

Wait stop, that isn’t right.

I had to look above me,

To see the crooked path,

But I didn’t have to watch your bum,

And stare when you did laugh.

I know that it was creepy.

I know that it was wrong.

But I saw so much perfect beauty,

Even though it felt so wrong.

And I didn’t mean to stalk you,

But I know that’s what I did.

I didn’t mean to tail you through

The streets where you don’t live.

Both of us so foreign,

To this brand new place,

Me a little taken,

By your gentle face.


I’m just about as silent,

As those embellished castle ghosts,

The tour guide does keep making up,

To keep us taking mental notes.

And like those things that haunt the halls,

Incorporeal to you,

I found myself just thinking,

Of what I had to do.

You weren’t going to see me,

No matter how high we climbed.

You were never going to love me,

Stuck in this endless staircase wind.

And if you couldn’t love me,

And I could not love you,

Then so it had to be,

The end of unknown new.
At the top of the great tower,

You had a wide eyed frown,

At the beauty of your last few seconds,

Before you hit the ground.


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