There he was
He stood across the glass wall
With A little girl beaming beside him
In a world different from her own.
Something strange was happening to her,
Love was a feeling which she had never known.
They stood for a while now
As the little girl squeaked in delight
He brought her to the museum every Sunday
She watched them from the distance, such was her plight.
Her heart ached as she saw him
She knew he could never be hers.
The little girl was his daughter
He belonged to a different universe.
He lit up her lifeless body
With a smile as bright as the sun.
But love was never that easy If so,
what would have poets done.
He stood across the glass wall
In a world different from her own
He was a man.
She was a doll trapped behind the glass, alone.
Quillosophy 