Gathered together around the sizzling sparks of the fire.
We take turns singing our songs
Some short, others too long.
But we must remember that we take this all for granted every year.
As the sun sets, more beautiful than the weeks before
The poem is read, and we applaud with silence.
Guitars are strummed and voices hum as we close the night.
Although we’d rather linger some more, we walk back on the shore, like the weeks before.
Such a routine is never broken for this is a tradition.
When we grow too old we hope those who we’ve taught will understand the importance that we never forgot
So this tradition can live on and only strengthen the bond.