The Oak Tree

you're sitting under the old oak tree,
next to a beautiful girls, and you wish if you could tell her that you love her,
and you hope that somehow she knows.
your fingers tremble as you rehearse the words hundred times in your head,
I love you, and I want to be with you
but your heart stings and sinks as you remember how it felt the last time you said it to someone.

You're sitting under the old oak tree,
next to a beautiful girl, you wish if she would tell you that she loves you, because you know that she does.
The girl looks at you and smiles, and for a second you feel the sentence on the tip of your tongue,
you breath in and fill your lungs with the cool air,
swarms of feelings took over you,
they settled between your heart and lungs, crammed in your insides and it's just about time,
The girl smiles,
and your fear is washed away with her peacefulness,
you're tired of your cowardice.

You're sitting under the old oak tree,
the one in the park in your neighborhood,
where you spent most of your childhood,
no one sat under this tree before but you, but now she's here because you trust her that much.
you start talking nonstop about all the times you came here, and all things you did.
you tell her stories no one heard and no one will,
because you want her to know you, you want her to see you like no one else,
you want her in every way a person wants another person,
something about her watchfulness makes want to talk,
urges you to reveal all your secrets, to spill all your love
and you open your mouth to say what you've been locking away,
but she asks you what's wrong and your knees buckle
you say nothing.

You're sitting under the old oak tree,
the one in the park in your neighborhood.
all by yourself, thinking about your life.