Won't it be a sweet sixteen
How is it going?
I hope life is still as flowing
because it isn't right now.
At fourteen, you only get faults and fouls.
Will you look back at me today
and laugh in a despising way?
What will you do, who will you meet?
Are you still willing to help the beggars on the street?
Is your heart full of passion or has it turn cold?
Do you praise yourself or do you still scold?
Do you still see the world in blackish white or reddish blue?
Do you still want to bid your sadness adieu?
Are you alone right now, do you remember me?
If you don't, then please look at the willow tree.
You know which one, it's behind our lawn.
I carved my name on it before December's dawn.
If you look at the initials you might recall
the memories you had of me and him late that fall.
Maybe you aren't as innocent as you were any more
but that's okay because life wouldn't be such a bore.
Tell me about yourself, tell me what's going on.
I want to know if you still visit that lake of swans,
that wooden tree house and that fort made of vines.
I want to know everything, isn't anything fine?
In two years, you'll tell it all
but hey, no one's stopping me from breaking the walls.
I want to know my future, I want to know you
so I will be aware of what I'll shortly go through.
Hopefully I'll get a reply soon,
probably on my birthday, some time in June.
You'll write to me and solve the mystery
that once was hope, but built your history.