Who Is It?

As I sit in the square, I look at all the women and I think:

Is it you, the one with the flowing brown hair?
Is it you, the one with the alluring legs?
Is it you, the one with the beautiful face?
Is it you, the one with the fantastic cleavage?

But then my eye is drawn to a girl, sitting all alone

No. It is more likely to be you,
The one with the faraway look.
The one with the demure demeanour.
The one that seems almost to say

‘I need someone to sit with me
To comfort and protect me
To love and cherish me
To always be by my side’

I want to be all this, and more
But I know it can never be
Even though, if it was,
It would endure

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