Waimarama Night

We were grains of sand,

dancers waltzing to rock music.

The air's salty taste felt like summer

when one year became the next

at Waimarama.

We were not delicate.

The police came too that night,

getting in on the party,

taking one off to a flowery dell.

We felt like things would never be the same,
sculpting ourselves on

the shaky foundations of dreams.

The playground taught us about all kinds of pain

and we rewound the clock
just to see if things would happen the same way

given a chance to start again.

I knew things could have been better
but the night was perfectly imperfect

and the story will be told a few times

some years down the line.

We eventually slept, fallacious sleep.

We woke to make resolutions,

healthy eating and no more booze

then cracked open a beer and ate

stacks of pancakes for breakfast-

The morning sun warned us

and the beach flaunted its beauty.