It that what you call love?

Under her pink umbrella she's running to the bus,
she know that she will miss it again, like always.
 But still she stop, stop to say:
 hey.
She saw him going  towards her,
 first he doesn't saw her.
But as he came closer to her he start to smile.
 The smile that makes it feel warm inside, that look in his eyes that tells her in secret that she is the:
 most beautilful women he knows and ever has seen.
He doesn't tell her anything, it's just that look he has when he looks at her.

That feeling that he always gives her, is that what  people call love?

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