Samantha

15

Summer Time

In summer time is different
Like trickling sands in an hourglass,
Or waiting for water to boil so you can cook your pasta,
When you don’t pay attention everything happens at once
Your time is gone, the water’s boiling over.
The sun stares me down as
I leave the sanctity of my home
Burning my eyes out of my sockets and turning my skin the color of
The blood that runs through me with its intense glare
And so I retreat meekly to my bedroom; I’ve always preferred the indoors Anyway.
But there are exceptions
I love nighttime, the moon and her bashful beauty,
The only illuminating lights coming from headlights
Of cars trying to find their way home
And the stores that demand the contents of your soul and your wallet, Enticing you with the droning buzz of fluorescent lights and the promise of New belongings you can call your own.
I love looking at houses when I pass them, because on the outside they look Simple and common.
When you enter, you’ll discover everything has a story.
The dining room rug everyone hates,
The beloved mug, cracked and weary as my sanity
Beds imprinted with the eternal crevice of a warm body that curls there Every night
Pillows yellowed with tears of adolescent confusion
Summer gives us freedom
Summer gives us life
But the days steadily get shorter and soon the dry, bitter bite of Winter will Clamp onto my face and ears
Punishing me with howling winds and endless nights,
Simply because I’m in love with another season that’s too warm and too
Brief.
And so I must love Summer
Before she’s dead again.