Emma

15

When I think of summer,
I think of him.

The fresh prickly grass like his rough leg against mine
The sun's warmth feels exactly like his embrace
The rose petals remind me of his soft lips,
The popsicles of his red-stained cheeks.

The japanese beetles are the same color as his eyes
The breeze is the breath from his lips
The fire is like his eager spirit,
The kids squealing represent his enthusiasm.

When I think of summer,
I have to remember him.

The swinging swings like him swaying to music
The rustle of the trees is him shifting in the bed
The crack of a baseball bat is him flipping pancakes
The red strawberries are his favorite color.

When I think of summer,
I want to forget him.

The blue skies like his favorite suit
The melting ice cream like tears dripping from my eyes
All the flowers remind me of our final goodbye,
And the lilies of his grave.

When I think of summer,
I think of him.