We are,
a handful of all
the beautiful things.
Strange little pearls
that life scatters
across our hearts.
Summer.
It's like trying to find
the X on a pirate's map
and yet,
there have been days
when the sun has warmed us
our faces lifted to the sky
waiting for
a shower of golden
tattered confetti
to
fall.
Then come the days
when the sun hides
away,
and yet we love ~
we wait;
because we know
the rainbows
will bleed
colour
over the street
while we listen,
and wait again.
Until summer
returns
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Pretty misty stars