Under the tree blinded by adolescent minds. In front of him he sees is a love interest at the age of 7 but all she sees is a friendships that will hopefully last a life time. Time moves on she leaves the tree behind. leaving the 9 year old boy to himself. Years past now in middle school she gets a call from the 14 year old boy. Heart drops as he asks for advice on how to stop the pain after his grandfather died. Hugs exchanged once seeing each others flesh for the first time in 7 years. Now standing strong he lifts his head high both for a split second standing side by side just like old times. Now back in shelter she takes out the photo of her and him, at 7 years old under the tree.
YOU ARE READING
Idealistic
PoetryWho knows if you can even call it poetry. What I write is derived from what I observe from others, my brain and my experiences in this word.
