There,

In class.

Bored again.

Reviewing exactly what we just read.

You put your hand out,

I lay my on top.

You say my hands are so small you can't hold them

You fingers wrap around my palm,

Sparks start to fly.

Am I dreaming?

Please let this be real!

Our eyes meet

And your hand drops.

The warmth is still there,

The spark that became

A fire

Lives on.

I hope the next time

Class becomes a bore;

You reach out your hand

And it all happens

Again.