People say you are either friends for a reason or for a season,
But isn’t a season a reason?

Some of the losses rip you apart,
Some just slip out from between your fingers,
Some don’t leave,
They are just thousands of miles away

You put pen to paper,
And eagerly await a reply
You call from time to time
And you save all you earn to go back and be with them again.

The thing about friendships like that they are worth waiting for.

Your reason becomes a season,
The season is summer.