And the rain is beating down

washing the places where we used to play as children

on summer afternoons.

The sun rises on the horizon

lighting places where we lay with grass over our eyes

and watched the clouds drift on and on

into the never-ending,

now we know this is just the beginning

where we live.

And it's wrong to make me feel this way

when it isn't your problem,

it isn't your problem.

So will you be back?

Now that we stand where we were children,

just a little our of our heads and unprepared

maybe even without a reason

I take your hand.

Here we are, never so real a deeling, never so good,

never closer and never more

a part of this moment happened

and I couldn't tell if you eyes were hazel,

and hardly adjusted to the light of a new day

when everything was not the same as yesterday

when we felt tomorrow

I want to be tomorrow.

For the first time I've lost

and found myself in illusion, or is it reality?

And I rememver breathing

in the scent of tangerine

which takes me back to the day when skinned our knees

chasing lightning bugs through the night.

I smashed

and it smeared all blue and green, somewhere in between

your shoulder blades.

It left a streak that flashed in the dark.

If I could regret it, or just change places

the one thing think I know is

it's all been leading up to this moment.

No thanks are needed, you've been a good friend,

and it's alright, we'll make up for it later,

after graduation.

(Some original poetry I wrote right before summer started.)

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