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Rated: E · Poetry · Personal · #2294406
A story of childhood best friends.
The sun burns my eyes as I look up at you high in the sky.

You start to fall back down as I fly high.

We take turns repeating the motions up and down, up and down, up and down.

I know we’ve lost track of time laughing since the sun doesn’t burn my eyes as I look up at you anymore.

Eventually, we reach equal ground.

This is when we lay in the grass for hours talking about everything yet nothing at the same time.

We look up to the sky at the cloud above and debate about whether the cloud looks like a flower or a firework.

We never come to a conclusion, but I know I’m right; It looks like a flower.

Your hand grabs mine to pull me away…it’s time to go home.

I know your hand will be in mine forever.

No matter what we’re doing or where we’re going your hand is in mine and whenever I look up to the sun and it burns my eyes I’ll think of you high in the sky.
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