• Counting the ticks
    One
    Two
    Three
    Waiting under the tree
    For that special one for me

    He said he'd be here half past noon
    But already it's one twenty-two!
    Almost an hour late
    Maybe it's just fate
    Or that down town traffic
    Slowing him drastically

    We met on IM
    Just a little chat
    Soon it grew to be more
    I think my smile is starting to show
    Ever since then
    It seems that he's the only one
    That can bring a laugh to my voice

    One thirty, and not a sign
    I guess he wasn't meant to be mine
    Slowly I glance around
    Not hearing a whisper
    Nor a sound
    Sighing warily I stand
    Then I feel someone grab my hand
    They tug me back to meet their lips
    A sudden move that caused me to trip

    We fall in the leaves
    And I meet his eyes
    Of all the men it could have been
    It was the one I met on IM