Stale Vichyssoise

You know what I miss?

Slow swinging days, lying back in a haze unsure of the time of day or if that cup of coffee is stale.

An oral fixation on a jetty, feeling like the sky is beneath you.

Tapping rainy days, lying under the window sill with the curtains blown all the way to hit the ceiling fan, deeply engrossed in the lyrical depictions of existence.

Sitting on a swing, having burger and staring into the bleakest of seas.

Huddled in a circle, snickering hysterically with friends over nonchalant remarks you can't take back.

Screaming out of tune in the car at 140km/h over silly break-up rock ballads.

Enjoying sushi on a stage, beamed with a glaring spotlight, looking over a church.

Slighting secret glances over your friends' shoulders as you strum that guitar and throw a sly smile at me when nobody's looking.

Moments are perfect because they are fleeting. All that's left is memories, and we do have a knack of repainting memories in a tint that the setting sun by the beach alone couldn't bring forth.