Deep in concentration, your godly walk
down the hallway, you're like a saint
Your hips swaying slightly, sexily
Your fingers gently brush invisible dust
off the hem of your shirt -
It is black, simple.
White sleeves creep out from underneath
Black jeans: I have to love your style.
I could be your shoes,
You take care of them;
They caress your feet each day
I resist the urge to run my hands
through your ever so soft hair
I watch you because