Return
Location
An old hideaway in the forest where old friends meet up occasionally and talk about how much fun they had together.
United States
See map: Google Maps
On the fence again,
Where we both once sat,
I feel you,
And know you're near.
I hear your feet,
Rustling the leaves as you walk,
Over to me,
And our old haunt.
Just six months more,
You'll be gone.
Though now you're here,
I ask for no more.
As we talk,
The trees grow,
Yet time itself,
Stops.
This poem is about:
Me
My community