Summer Compass

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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.

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