Sitting on the steps

Suddenly I was this kid again. The smell of my autumn street flying around with the brown leaves. I was sitting in the stairs of our porch while my father lectured me. Talking about responsabilities , and how I should refrain from doing just because I felt like. This was all about Betsy and my little revenge when she turned down my seven-year-old lips. I don't quite remember what was the prank but it was worth a couple of weeks without Tv, and a fine selection of my favorite toys taken away. Just before getting them back, there I were, sitting in the steps that had been my bed, or twisted my ankle. And my always concerned Dad was still giving me this talk about impetuousness, not that I had the faintest idea of what the word standed for. But he was efficient, never again did I do something hot and bothered. Until this day. If my father were here to punish me I reckon I probably wouldn't see the Tv for a year. "Stealing" He might have said waving his head " Never thought you would be capable of such a thing". Back then I would reply that it had been just a kiss, and my father would proceed 'till midnight repeating the word just every step of the way. But today I sit remembering that punishment and wishing the one she's goin' to give me is just as light. If Only I could cry "sorry" 's out until she would forgive me. She wouldn't hear, just like good old dad wouldn't. Why couldn't just follow his advice?
What the hell do you have to do with it? Nothing I know, but you're always the victim of what is exploding inside me. Please don't take away my Tv. Answer back quick!

Yours Faithfully,
Shawn