They pass each other in the hall

Practically every single day

But they both only slightly nod

For lack of knowing what to say


He would have carried her books

If he only the confidence to ask

And she would have let him do it

For it was quite a weary task


She would have made him smile

He always seemed so immensly sad

She desperately craved to caress his face

Whispering softly into his ear, it’s not so bad


They pass each other in the hall

Both aware of that pull in the air

Yet, day in, day out, it’s the same refrain

Both resolved not to show they care