Thursday afternoon, will you walk me home from school without having to ask, pass by the willow tree humming moments from when it all began, swing me one last time from your wooden rope swing hold me high before letting go faster than secure, back and forth, I'm gonna lie to you, but somehow i think you already knew and its all up to the leaves who rustle through our secrets as if they are open books adequate enough to entertain more than the just the both of us, we are just about to abandon our childhood altogether, right here under the oak tree, and somehow i think you already knew.
