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.