A few friends.

A bus trip.

The endless appetite.

The strongest tea.

The beaches never to rest.

The waterfalls in forest.

The sunsets in sea.

The curves on roads,

To find the codes.

The bonfire.

The school choir.

A tent. No rent.

A night. All fight.

Hearts so big. Maybe with racing gig.

The camera with all of our pictures

Not of the present,

But of the past.

All of us, driving into something beautiful at last.

We’ll dance so free.

And find each other, if we

Will fall asleep or talking

Under the darkest cover of star.

The strings of guitar.

The songs so far.

Far from the mess of life.

Far from the time’s tide.

Far from the Heavens and Hell.

No worries of death bell.

Where everything takes a different turn.

The place we wanted to run

to, The white snow and brown sand,

The rising moon and the setting sun.

A few friends.

A bus trip.

My dream yet to rip.


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