Popcorn

At half past seven,
At the garden of Eden,
With pure smile of bluish Heaven
There stood a little girl.

Her hands were curious,
Her knees more furious,
Her look - just nothingness
As she passed the empty chairs.

And there He was
With the softest skin and thus
His eyes were deeply trembling as
A loud sirene, he whispers...

" And so we're gathered here today "
Words reaching her ear like an easy fray,
Not knowing her heart just may
Melt inside as fresh-bought Snickers.

He then finds her innocent eye-
Flowers, problems and numbers- they all seem to die.
Die in themselves as the common lie
They have separately shared fades through light.

Though words touching her soul like clay,
They knew there was probably no way
For them to make that feeling grow one day.
And so their heads turned.

His... for a pair of eyes that would keep
Her sweet memory so deep
He'd no longer feel the need
To dial unknown rough combinations.

Searching for a new direction,
With warmth and confusing indignation
She filled a dusty college application.
Her arms were shaking, yet the pen was full.

Ten years were now gone.
Her old smile, the look - she felt none.
It all seemed to have been awfully done.
Until he takes her hand...

At half past seven,
At the garden of Eden,
Appears a voice of bluish Heaven:
" Sorry, Miss. You've dropped your wallet ".