The When

I’m not in love with you.

I’m in love with the when.

When you walk by—

not looking for permission.

When you smile,

like it wasn’t rehearsed.

When that chip on your shoulder shows

just long enough to tell the truth

about where you’ve been.

When you say “excuse me,”

and I move.

And when I look back

and you say “thank you,”

like you noticed I did.