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