Ode

Ode to the sad green eyes

that look at me across the way. 

Ode to the sweetly sorrowful smile

that somehow gets the last say. 

Ode to the quiet intensity,

Ode to the sharpest of wit;

Ode to the poet so cynically,

Ode to the form that I cannot fit. 

An ode, 

is supposed to be in love

or admiration;

and it's sad that I feel it still. 

When you do that shy smile,

I could rearrange the stars to write you an ode.

To find you again, 

I would kiss a toad. 

I've tried the road less traveled-

and it was hell-

and maybe if I took the one 

flattened down,

I won't be able to tell. 

So an ode to me,

walking off the plank of a ship, 

And an ode to you my dear, 

who just decided to skip.