There was a hill
As I remember
A dusty road
And a carriage house
A pile of hay
In the corner
And old wood beams

There was a swing
As I remember
A tire swing
That went round
And round
We swung
The afternoons away

It was warm
As I remember
But your hands
Were always icy cold
Even in the heat
Of the sunbaked attic
Even in the cold
Of the frigid lake

You left
As I remember
You didn’t say goodbye
I sat and waited for you
By the old tire swing
Up the hill
And the old dirt road
You didn’t tell me
You weren’t coming back

I sat
As I remember
In the pile of hay
I cried
Because you’d gone

Now you’re coming back
In a wood box
Nailed shut tight
With a flag
Laid across the top
And a letter
For your parents
And nothing
For me
And I’m sitting
In the pile of hay
I’m crying