Second Grade Serenade

“Hey Lacey, come and play.”
I spoke those few words that day.
She walks with such playful grace.
I won’t forget the smile on her face.
We ran around the playground.
I pushed her on the swing.
I’d sit and listen to the heavenly sound
Of when she’d start to sing.

“Hey Lacey, come to my house.”
Next year, her mom, quiet as a mouse,
Said she could come over.
She came to my party, her mom drove her.
After we ate, I’ll never forget when she kissed me.
It was on the cheek, but still I hid.
I’d never been kissed before, you see.
So I can’t forget the day she did.

“Hey Lacey, come hold my hand.”
Fourth grade, I wanted to land
In her heart now and forevermore.
We’d walked on the beach skipping rocks on the shore.
Hand-in-hand, with the Moon in her hair,
I couldn’t help but pull her close.
I guess I didn’t expect the kiss we’d share.
A long, inexperienced one, down on the coast.

“Hey Lacey, dance with me tonight.”
I’d asked her to the dance, quivering with fright.
It’s like prom for elementary school.
I knew she’d lied when she said I looked cool.
I just smiled at her anyway.
We danced and after, we talked for hours.
We discovered everything about each other that day.
We talked and laughed and smelled the flowers.

“Hey Lacey, I’m moving away...”
I couldn’t find the words to say.
We hugged for hours and we even kissed.
I can honestly say that ‘til then, I’d never been missed.
I thought it’d be the last I ever saw of her.
My thoughts began to jumble and mix.
I’d been so confused as my heart began to stir.
After all, I’d loved her since I was six.

“Hey Lacey, I’m back where I belong.”
I’m here to listen to your song.
I’ve been waiting forever to hear your voice.
I want you to sing of me being your choice.
Maybe not your first, but always your last,
Because you won’t be able to make any more.
I didn’t even get to say “goodbye” when you passed.
I hope you find Heaven and walk through that door.

“Hey Lacey, I remembered your birthday.”
There’s a bundle of flowers on your grave today.
You never liked flowers, but now that I’m here,
I’m told this is how I’m supposed to recuperate, my dear.
Flowers don’t numb this pain I feel,
But I’m hoping what I think is true:
As I place them in the grass and kneel,
I’ll never forget us, and I’ll always love you.