The Math Book Note

As I strode past the attic door,

Waves of last summer crashed all over me.

I glanced down at the dusty floor,

And yea, and that was what I ought to see. '

I flipped through those yellow pages,

That smelt of roses and butter and wine.

Straightened out the crumpled edges,

As I stumbled upon those silly lines.

Feelings for long I’ve tried to hide,

At the heart of the last leaf, etched very deep.

Maybe, if only I hadn’t lied,

And so, caused my very own eyes to weep.

Been a while since I last looked back,

Missed that goofy smile and the way you laugh.

Been painful so cut me some slack,

Much enough for me to stay on the rough..