Because we were only eight years old

False starts of music, smiles melting into a frown, eyes twitching till they close, playing dress up parties, me as a clown.

A little boy and a little girl, holding hands with twinkling eyes, stealing chocolate cookies, feeling guilty for telling lies.

We had sun kissed hair, with freckles on our noses, sun burnt skin, still in photos we were poses.

And silly words were all we had in our vocabulary, we laughed at your brothers friend because his name was Luis Larry.

And you held my hand tight when you knew I was scared, but I didnt know that this meant that you cared.

We licked the bowls of mixture our mums had made, and with dirty faces, on the floor we laid.

You dared me to run with no clothes on, so I did but then you dared me to sing a song.

We giggled so much that our tummies hurt, but then you cried because you ruined your bran new shirt.

We got over our tears and we decided to run, having races with you seemed like so much fun.

And we sprinted up the street to our special tree spot, we painted the trees until we got hot.

Then we sat in the sun and ate our chips, we were not touching, only slightly at the hips.

We were joined like that, never wanting to be alone, our hearts were each others, and you were the only one who seemed like home.

And one day we watched ten black birds fly bye, and you said youd miss me when you have to fly up high.

But I just smiled, I was too amazed by the sky, and even if I took notice I would have said it was a lie.

Because we were only eight years old.