Hallelujah.

When i think of that island

i think of that night

i think of us

four ink splats

dancing on the sandy canvas

spreading out in our own

hypnotic state

 

we weren’t allowed in the water

not that we listened

the fear of sharks couldn’t stop us

shedding our clothes

our inhibitions

for one small moment

resting

in its deep blue palm

 

everyone else was at

the camp

better known as

the home we’ll never forget

with its long wooden tables

and burnt out fire

not forgetting the toilets

you didn’t dare enter

 

it was a funny group

i guess

looking back, i mean

 

we two, forever connected

and the boys

we’d barely shared a word

 

but there we were

 

the guitar was our soundtrack

(there was always a guitar)

lit up by

the firefly

sitting on the end

of your cigarette

 

(sure, cigarette she said)

 

we sung

from the depths of our heart

so full

that the words

spilled over the edge

tip toeing away

right over to the

shore

 

and i’ve seen your flag on the marble arch

and love is not a victory march

it’s a cold and it’s a broken hallelujah

 

and then the second

we all looked up

in unison

it seemed

ready for our own private show

 

because the stars

had come out to play

the milky way

easing in and out

of the sky’s gentle clutch

her curves

her lines

her beauty

pure

ours for the taking

 

her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you

 

the clearness

the overwhelming sense

that we were witnessing

something out of this world

a glimpse

ours for eternity

 

and every breath we drew was hallelujah

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