I always used to be her,
the girl next door.
We discovered each other blindly,
not even realising what
was becoming of us.

You were always the geek-
the quiet one,
the shy one.

Swinging on your swingset,
the breeze blowing through out toes,
I was taken somewhere else.
You made me laugh…

I would amuse myself
by playing with your little sister.
She would tell me all about you,
we would snoop through your room,
never finding anything of interest.
I couldn’t believe myself,
but we were becoming friends.
After living across the street
from each other our whole lives,
twelve years later, we were becoming friends.

During that summer,
we befriended each other
and something special began to develop.
But suddenly, I wasn’t the girl next door…
I became the girl
around the corner,
up three streets,
and in four houses.

Your sister stopped calling
Your mom wouldn’t let her…
she thought I was too old for her
and didn’t want to be bothered…
little did she know.

But one day
your sister took me to the treehouse.
We stopped at the creek on the way home.
Oddly enough,
I found myself wishing-
wishing that I was with you,
and not your little sister.
Wishing I was once again
the girl next door