We will always have the tangerine sun

and the bespectacled moon;

engaging in mirth and a tempestuous

game of hide and seek. We will always

have mini monsoons and cypress

trees, spiralling into the cloudless sky.

Seared limbs and denim jackets, the lazy

sweltering, August sun;

burning into our backs. We will always

have the silent, gilded, frosty nights

and the warm raucous laughter.

The soft smoke curling around us

as we speak, we shall always

have it all; In the mind’s eye, at least.

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