I walked past your old house.
I stared at the dark windows,
wishing I could turn back time.

Your bedroom light would flick on and I’d call you.
Asking you out for ice cream.
You’d run to the window and there I’d be.
You’d run out of that house all giddy like,
wearing an old flannel of mine.
We’d hold hands as we walked down the block.
You’d start to ramble on about nothing.
We’d admire our neighborhood
as the leaves rustle across the street.
admitting this was our favorite time of year.

You’d find us a table while I stood in line
I’d ask for two Oreo shakes.
Your eyes getting big when I brought them over.
We’d sip away and talk more about nothing
and I’d be so happy.

The night would get cooler
And we’d snuggle each other walking back.
Squeezing me tighter
the closer you were from home.
We’d stand under that light
in your front yard.
Saying nothing but
feeling everything.
Both tired and cold,
refusing to let go.

Tonight, I stood there again.
Crying,
begging to be that kid again.