gets the look but not the eyes.
Hers is a portion of your style,
plays the line without the swing
starts but cannot end your smile.
And theres the march but not your spring.
It's never you, although she tries.
taller, shier, bolder
Conspire to make a shadowing,
One one and one another thing,
Until the eyes of the beholder,
Not finding peace in any part,
Cry out you should be unallowed
To shift your shape into a crowd,
And want one look that shows your heart.
to the present