The Empty Swing

A little hand, a whispered plea, "Will you be my friend, just you and me?" We built our forts of blankets high, And chased the clouds across the sky. We shared our secrets, soft and low, Where only childhood dreams could go. We painted pictures, bright and bold, And stories whispered, never old. But time, it flows, a restless stream, And childhood fades, a waking dream. The paths we walked, they split and stray, And friendships drift, and slip away. Now empty swings, they gently sway, A silent longing, day by day. For laughter shared, and hands held tight, For childhood's warmth, and starry night. My heart still yearns, a gentle ache, For bonds we made, we couldn't break. A simple wish, a silent prayer, To find that friendship, waiting there. To find a soul, that understands, The echo of those childhood lands. Where trust was pure, and hearts were free, And "just a friend" meant family.