return of poetry

This time, it's for real.

Here goes:

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My pulse quickens ever so slightly when
I see her foot twitch imperceptibly,
her mind deep in thought over a question.
Her answer is inevitably an
example of pure perfection, in its
content, complexity, and congruence.
Her relief is completely palpable.
She relaxes and focuses on her
next conquest, a surmountable struggle.
She delicately fingers her pencil,
pausing over each possibility.
Her pretty face is cast over with a
veneer of delicate concentration;
One choice, another choice, yet another.
Each passes her strong inspection unscathed
Leaving her no choice but to take a stab.
A seemingly random guess, guided by
a discreet divine hand, ensuring her
sweet success. O, how I wish I could be
the focus of such an intent gaze from
her. But, alas, it is not my fortune
to be the object of such desire.
Her heart belongs to academia,
guarding itself from such trivial acts
as responding to unrequited love.

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There you have it.