I love the friends
I don’t see very often.
Because when we’re together
it feels so damn good.
Laughter and voices
keeping time with each other.
Old friends learn new rhythms
and teach songs learnt far away.
But then, the chords strike up
the old classics
and voices raise.
Hands find other hands,
and fingers intertwine like constellations connecting the dots.
Time vanishes while the guitar strums.
Everyone forgets
how long it has been.
Everyone forgets old conflict,
old fear.
Being together, just feels
right.
We lay on docks under summer stars
that freckle the sky.
We don’t need to see faces to know who is there.
Quiet secrets;
whispered stories,
come alive around the campfire.
And the night slips away,
like it wants to give us
some privacy
but the sun disturbs us all too soon.
When we say goodbye,
hugs and tears
mingle with winks and
inside jokes.
It’s okay.
We always find our way back.
Maybe not for a while.
Maybe not here.
But these friends are my summer compass;
warm summer nights always point back
to them.
