Years ago we sat in the Peach tree
The scraped inner crook of knees
caused by feet, swinging on beat
hung at a 90 degrees from the tree
Our skin so smooth and the bark so rough
padded soles of feel so tough
Our tender hearts were enough
All because of our child-like love
Making a tear of sorts from the place
the peach kissed your lips with grace
and you longed with childlike taste
for the juice to adhere to your face
But now look at what a mess we're in!
ground below and the fear within
succulent fruit on our chins
and the leaves sway like we were 10.
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