Friends. Poem by Nicholas Windle

A toast to friends old and new,
As we gather round the fire.
The pack we’d made, when we all were young,
By now I thought we’d tire.
My eyes look deep, into the burning flames,
Their tongues, ever hungry for the evening air.
As the pleasure given, by its warming glow,
On the faces of all those there.
Through the laughter, the sound of the rolling tide,
As it crashes, onto the shore.
The salted air carried on the breeze,
As my senses, crave out for more.
With the afterglow, from the setting sun,
Cast its reflections on the sea.
We raise a glass, to those we love,
This is where I want to be.