You.

Different Ages of Love.

                                                      You, 

I used to sit in a tree with you.  We were nine.  Do you remember? 

I told you.  I love you.  I didn’t know what love really was. 

But I knew you would let me hold your hand if I said the words.   

It was your grandmother's tree. But it was really ours. 

Was it an apple tree?  Do you remember? 

I used to sit in a tree with you.  We were twelve.  Do you remember? 

I stole a kiss from you, or was it you from me?  Do you remember? 

I used to sit under a tree with you.  We were fourteen.  Do you remember? 

I used to hold you and you me.  Do you remember? 

I used to lay under a tree with you and you with me. We were sixteen.  Do you remember? 

I finally realized what the words I had said at nine meant. 

I used to lay and play under a tree with you and you with me.  

The grass had grown up tall, and no one could see, as I made love to you and you to me. 

Our laughter and pleasure filled the air. 

We were eighteen.  Do you remember? 

That was the year they took me away from you, from under our tree. Do you remember? 

When I returned from where there were too many trees, and none with you. 

I went to your house, your grandmother told me you had gone away with someone else. 

I walked to where our tree was.  Someone had cut it down.  It lay in pieces, as my heart did. 

I wanted to remember when I was nine and told you I loved you and held your hand. 

I wanted to remember when we were twelve and we stole our first kiss from one another. 

I wanted to remember when we were sixteen and we realized what the words at nine meant. 

I wanted to remember when we were eighteen and we filled the air with laughter and sounds of pleasure. 

And now, I don’t want to remember.  I hate trees. 

I think I’ll move to the Desert. 

 

D. Randall Dollaway 

18 October 2025 

Reviews

[Betty Hermelee]

Mixed emotions of childhood memories, some ecstatic, some sad when you lost your love…. And when the tree was cut down….. I think we all have mixed feelings of yesteryear…. That’s part of growing up
Lovely write
Warmly
B🌷🌷🌷🌷