He used to arouse my curiosity
He made me wanted to know every lil thing about him
He shooed away the nightmares I could've had
He soothed me so easily with only a few words
He would let me sleep in his arm
He's the reason why I want to gaze at the stars and the moon every night
He was my indian summer
Well, I wanna tell you that he is my father or something, but he's not. Ah, too bad right. I wrote those words not because of some pathetic sloppy corny reasons. I wrote them because I merely miss him, as a friend. Because he's a really good friend I used to have.
I wish I'll meet someone that'll make me feel the way he made me. Let's us all cross our fingers, then!
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