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If we were kids again weâd hang out almost everyday
Running through woods at dawn finding the magic in things
Youâd help me up the tree, holding me up to the top of the branches
Open your book to read the story that felt like we were already in
Where youâre the king of the apple trees
In the orchard where Iâd come to eat
Where weâd pull the wings off bees
To build a bed in the top of the barn
Humming through grass weâd sing out in the fields with the wind in our ears
Where nights are long and in the day youâd paint and Iâd write about outer space
Where Iâm the queen of the creek and the banks where you come to drink
Swimming through birch and bark tell you my secrets of how I can fly
And Iâll show you how tonight over bread and some white wine on ice
And Iâll draw a bath and weâll cram in
And weâll write this story as we begin
And on the bus weâre still living in the pages of our book that we have written
And as if the wheels have turned to wings
Traveled back to our world filled with birch trees & broken barns