Use to hate to go to school
I never cracked a book;
I played the hook.
Never answered any mail;
To write I used to think was wasting ink.
It was never my endeavor
To be too clever and smart.
Now I suddenly feel
A longing to write in my heart.
If they asked me, I could write a book
About the way you walk and whisper and look.
I could write a preface on how we met
So the world would never forget.
And the simple secret of the plot
Is just to tell them that I love you a lot.
Then the world discovers as my book ends
How to make two lovers a friend.