Girl of fifteen,
I see you each morning from my
As you pass on your way to school.
I do more than see,
I watch you.
I furtively draw the curtain aside.
And my heart leaps through my
And follows you down the street;
Leaving me behind,
And wholly ashamed.
What holds me back,
Half-hid behind the curtains and wholly ashamed,
But my forty years beyond your fifteen?
Girl of fifteen, as you
There passes, too, a lightning flash of
In which you lift those forty summers off my head,
And take those forty winters out of my heart.
