serenade

He was in his school and she was his classmate. She loved mingling with the folks while he embraced narrowing his sight to admire just her. He was shy enough to confront her by himself. The times she sat beside him for his help on study notes were his golden ones. She would complete her notes while he would capture the charm of her face, captivating gree eyes, raven eyebrows and hair like curled ebony, he cherished being with her but alas, he uttered only academics, no heart matters. The days she sat before him, on the bench ahead of him, he would wallow in the locks of her hair. Some days, he would experience novice footsie with her and his heart then pumped recklessly. He would be left pondering if it was really from her or  they were just accidental foot pokes. By the way, he blushed believing the first. Yet, no utterances, no love preludes. He continued stealing sights of her, during a class, during her incessant talking, during a fake 'head down', during cycling down her school bus knowing she always sits beside the window. These stealings would blossom his day and he would  preserve every glimpse from fading like cupped hands prevent a flickering candle from dying down. She still chuckles with her friends and he lives on those but time awaits his serenade.