PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I met her when I was nine under a tall apple tree that held two swings side by side,
We would go there everyday to play an swing and imagine we could fly,
And as the years went quickly by we would no longer swing to pass the time,
instead we lay and talk about what lay on each others mind.
And at other times we would sneak out and meet under the tree at night,
to lay underneath the purple blue, start light sky
and that's when she would usually put her hand in mine.
But one day as I walking up to meet her, i saw her already there looking solemn on the swing,
when she saw me, she forced a smile
And I Asked "What's wrong?" and she simply replied "I'm sick"
And after that day we me started to meet for less and less each time,
Until one day she didn't come at all, and i knew why,
So i sat on my swing and began to cry..