I have been going through my poem/quote books that I've written in and I came upon one of my favorite poems I read in high school. The author in unknown.
...And they made believe it was summer even though it was the middle of December. He leaned over and whispered, we can pretend there's an orange tress growing in the backyard if it makes you feel any better... She just stared off into what he knew was the place she went when it hurt. He held her tighter even though he knew he'd lost her. He kept his faith that someday her whole heart could be his. Racing through rich dark green fields with bare feet and high hopes, he could always recall these memories when it hurt. He slowly got up and before releasing her hand and turning to leave, he stared straight into her eyes but she was still somewhere far away, and once again whispered slowly, "we can pretend there's an orange tress growing in the backyard"...
