She's so pretty.
Golden hair tied back effortlessly,
But it still glows with neatness:
Could that hair not be pretty?
And her eyes--big innocent eyes
In a face full of hope and gentle curves and naivete.
I don't even know her.
Her face is a jumbled, sleep-blurred snapshot.
I bump on the dark green seats and stare at her unmoving golden hair.
I just saw her this morning, and bam.
I have no idea who she is,
And I already think she's so pretty.
What's happening to me?