A Minute on Magnetic Island.

There’s nothing quite like

finding your own little place

on an island

 

nothing like knowing

you are that speck on the map

the one only visible

when you really squint

 

yeah, that’s the one

 

surrounded on every corner by

the ocean

it twisted around us and wrapped us in

its glory

its magic

the many secrets we all let slip

way beneath its surface

 

it was the perfect group

from Byron Bay all the way to

Magnetic Island

the camper van with its torn back seats

and delicious tales had carried us

brought us

back together

 

we’d never seen rain like it

that night I always remember

the night that whispers its memories

like fingertips down my spine

such a simple memory

and yet here it is, time and time again

 

the guitar was playing

wasn’t it always?

and that little stick of laugher was passed

from tanned hand to tanned hand

the smell so familiar

to this little group of dream makers

 

palm trees on one side

the pool to the next

drenched in the waterfall

of an Australian downpour

 

the pool under the cloak of night

seemed only fitting

 

we swear it made us warmer

better floating in the water than succumbing to its

avalanche, right?

 

it felt like a lifetime

although perhaps it was only minutes

 

but sometimes a minute is all you need

 

a minute to feel as if

in that moment

everything was right

surrounded by love and beauty

giving yourself in

to its intoxicating kiss

 

your world a dark canvas

but for the moon

lighting up each other’s faces

faces that say

I found my place

and I never want to let it go.

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