We were so little.

We used to climb each ladder, racing to the top. Seeing who was faster, waiting and joking if someone will drop.

Our safehouse.

They were funny times. They were loud times.

Until the treehouse grew silent. I let it be lenient.

We went on different paths, but we could have kept the memories.
We were each other's symphonies.
Now it's just a tree house, a book of stories.