Under the Sycamore Tree

It was under the sycamore tree,
That I once knew a girl.
But that was a long time ago,
When we were young,
And the world was new.

We were naïve,
She was going to college,
I was going west,
We both said we’d keep in touch,
But we both knew our fate,
And so it will be,
Under the sycamore tree.

When I see our initials carved in the bark,
It takes me back to that summer,
I can still smell her scent in the wind,
Still hear her voice in the leaves,
I can almost touch her hair in the soft blow of the breeze.
But still the memory remains,
Under the sycamore tree.

Summers have come and past,
More people that I’ve seen.
But not a day goes by,
Not thinking about that one perfect week,
Under the sycamore tree.