In Remembrance of Doe

I sat there leaning against the headboard, looking at him as sleep overtook him. I felt his body soften against mine, his arms going limp and his head against my shoulder grew heavy. I inched away a bit and look at him, his face so beatific in sleep. I sighed.
I have known him for just a week and it is strange to say the least that it seemed I knew him forever.
I remember him walking up to me at the park and sitting near me. I looked at him and he looked at me. We smiled at each other and went back to what we were doing. I reading and he watching me.
He asked me about the welts on my face and I told him truthfully. My father beat me with his belt. His belt buckle cut my cheeks. He grimaced.
I met him many times after that, always at the park on the bench overlooking the lake. We talked and talked about anything and everything.
On the sixth day he asked me to go away with him and I did. We took the bus to the next town and we went to a house that he said belong to his grandmother who passed away a year ago. It was a musty house, but intact.
When he opened his arms, I walked in. The kiss was long and deep. The lovemaking was complete. It was a journey to the threshold of Eden.
I sighed again. I heard the wind soughing over the tree-tops outside, and I closed my eyes and moved to him for warmth. I was thirteen, he was sixteen. He is gone now to glory and I wait here to join him.