Golden rays of sunshine beam down from the skies above,

they blind you and make the entire world glow almost as bright as the white

of a dove.

Along with the light comes great heat,

melting some and burning others, setting the stage ablaze.

Something about basking in its light is sweet,

it reflects off of mirrors and gives glass a sleek glaze.

The evergreen is ever green in all of this light though,

and the days outlive the nights that the sky does show.

Fruit-flies come to hover over apples even when we tell them to go.

And everyone's free, yes, so free, out in the summer sun that likes to glow.

The skies are bluer than blue,

and the lies told by the sunflowers are truer than true.

Of how they face the face of this season all day and all night

they face the moon,

in August, July and June.

Bring me pink peonies in summer,

and daffodils in spring.

Bring me pansies in winter

and dahlias in autumn, yes bring.

Go out to the beach,

and walk through its sea.

When they yell 'leech!'

ignore their plea

for you to come back,

no never come back.

Follow your heart

even if it tells you to cross the whole sea.

Do it, and do it merrily, willingly.

And if the heat melts you into its waters, so you die,

become the sea, the ocean, the waters that try to fly

with each wave.

Even after death, they shall call you brave.

Or foolish, but still.

The summer sea called your name in a voice so shrill.

You couldn't ignore its call.

So you became a part of it.

No.

You became it all.

And in places of gold sands they dream of an oasis like you,

in meadows of such green grass they wish for something blue.

Like the seaside

that always sits beside

the beach in summer,

summer's special sea.

︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎

ద ద 𖦊 ꪉ 𐀔 𐃸 ద 𖦊 ʊ

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༒ ༒ ᜊ ༒ ༒ ༒

༒ ༒ ༒

༒ ༒ ༒ . . ༒

༒ ༒ ༒ . . ༒

ద ༒

༒ . ༒

༒ . . ᰔ

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