Rope Swing

April 27, 2008
I guess now that I think of it
The clouds looked rather grim,
The time I left my front porch
To take a walk with him.
We stepped onto the forest path,
Riddled with thickets and vines;
I pulled my skirt up to my knees
His strides not matched by mine.
The lake is where we’d always go,
And that’s forever how it’d been,
Since we were very young and still
Knew not yet how to swim.
We hadn’t gone in years it seemed,
And I thought about it then,
In fact- the last time he swam with me
We may not have yet been ten.
So we reached the old rot tire swing,
Found the worn rope on the ground.
The place looked rather barren;
Our old fort had fallen down.
Get in, he said in simplicity.
I looked down at clean clothes,
But before long I was off and running-
As I used to- plugged my nose.
He ran after me like he did back then,
Chasing me off of the dock.
We dove beneath the surface
Then climbed up upon our rock.
The sky was suddenly the deepest gray;
The clouds began to pour.
We laughed until we thought it would stop-
And then it poured some more.
And that is when he did it,
The thing I had seen last,
He leaned right through the heavy drops
And kissed me soft and fast.
I kissed him back and realized
We were no longer ten;
I brushed his sopping hair away
And then we kissed again.
I could have caught pneumonia,
I guess I could have got the flu,
But we stayed until our rock dried
And the sky returned to blue.

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