Friday, 01 May 2015 08:06

Tree House Story

by: rinchon khangrah

You and I.
We were so close.
We would talk all night.
And watch the stars together.

You said you wanted someone special.
Someone who could keep you going.
In bad times and good.
You said it all to me.

Then people began to talk.
Of our friendship.
Of how we were made for each other.
And soon I had myself believing.

You knew all about it.
And I too.
You said I was the only one.
Only one you could talk to honestly.

You always loved winters.
Loved them best.
And I,
Dreaded them, dreaded them most.

I said summers were best.
And springs the kindest.
You said winters were best to get romantic.
And soon I had myself believing.

That maybe, maybe you're right.
Summers and winters passed.
Many more springs.
And many more of our talks.

Then one afternoon you said we had a guest.
Invited to our tree house dear.
The tree house father made.
When we were young, much too young to climb.

You were speechlessly excited.
Not a word but I understood.
You had the look on your face.
The one you had when father made us the tree house back then.

Then you took my hand and looked right in the eyes.
You said all tomorrows were bright.
All worries abandoned.
And you sat me down, still holding my hand.

Then you told me stories.
Stories of springs and summers.
Winters that were oh so romantic and sweet!
You held my hand all along.

And finally you said.
The saddest lines ever.
You called them the best chapter of all.
And I wish I never believed.

You tightened the grip.
Looking more beautiful than ever.
Brimming in delight as you said the last part.
Of how she said yes.

You held my hands then.
Now I see.
It was winter.
Cold as ever.

You knew I dreaded winters most.
You always knew I needed them warm.
But never,
Of the cold I felt that evening.

In the heart infinity.
And for that I have one wish.
Just one wish from all within.
I wish you picked another season.

To tell me those stories.
Of those sweetest yet coldest adventures.
On a summer day or a spring I wish.
Winter made even harsher than ever.

But I'm glad it was a winter.
Else my seasons be all marred.
Summers and springs you spared.
And for that I thank you dear.

One last thing I have,
To ask of you my dear.
When people ask me who my best friend is.
Let me say your name oh please!

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