I was told that being quiet was fine,
It was just an endearing trait of mine,
And I thought this was good,
And maybe someday if I wanted to I could,
If volume became important I could change,
But no matter what my voice didn’t have range.

I knew him for a year or more,
When his eyes would rest upon me my gaze would fall to the floor,
He would ask me a simple question,
And my nervous answer would be my own obsession,
I couldn’t change his view of me,
For a quiet girl was all he would see.

I thought maybe now,
The stars and my confidence allow,
I could speak to him like more than a friend,
That maybe we would talk until the night would end,
And we would become quiet when the sun would rise,
No words would be needed and we could speak with our eyes.

I was told that being quiet was good,
But maybe they were misunderstood,
For because of this trait,
I was one sentence to late,
Another girl has taken him as a prize,
And now she will be the one to talk to his eyes.