She sat there underneath a veil of autumn leaves,

On a bench of weathered wood

With a tiny inscription of a broken promise carved

Into the fine grain of oak.

Her legs hung high above the ground

as she swung them to and throw.

And she hummed a song of innocence,

Notes hanging in the branches like crimson leaves

of time,

Slowly falling down upon me.

Gracing me with there delicate beauty

That I knew would never last .

She would grow up and leave this place,

An old bus stop on a bitter fall day.

Drive away never knowing

I was hiding behind the trunk of that very tree,

Listening to her every word,

Clinging in my hungry ears they echoed.

Haunting me and staining my soul with desire.

Never knowing,

I loved her.