any words that I could let escape my mouth now

would mean more than the

worthless words we used to whisper

into each other’s ears, when we were young

and we played on the big, white rock

near the old tennis courts where nobody plays anymore.

why does nobody play there anymore?

I remember those summer afternoons when

the sun beat down on

our pale legs

and we played on the rock

the rock’s still there, but where are we?

and those words we used to whisper,

that was our innocence. where’s that gone?

we’ve seen too much, corrupted

like maple trees in autumn when their leaves fall.

we could never play on that rock again.

it could never be the same.

and the tennis court, where we used to

pretend we knew the rules

and we tried to mimic the way the players on TV

hit the ball.

well, the courts are still there, but where are we?

we could never play on that tennis court again.

it could never be the same.

and those trees we used to climb

well, they aren’t even there anymore.

how could we ever feel like we did then?

remember the chalk we used to draw on our driveways with?

well, your driveway is no longer yours

and the chalk’s all used up.

how are we supposed to feel young again?

and the color of my house has changed

your things aren’t in your room anymore... it’s not even your room anymore.

and I lost the pictures of us playing on the

big, white rock.

how am I going to remember how we felt when we were innocent?