Over My Shoulder

I always see her backpack first,
Every morning as I walk to my locker.
She is always at her own,
And always looking away.
The light shines beautifully
Upon her hair.
If I am lucky,
She will turn
And I will catch a glimpse
Of that beautiful face
And those beautiful eyes
Focused somewhere else.
Our gazes meet.
“Hello!”
“Hi!”
And then her eyes return
To the same place.
Someplace over my shoulder.