Summer is not my favorite season,
summer is not really my jam,
but as June, July, and August
approach in their usual pack,
I find myself longing for the winding days,
the heat that slowly drives us all crazy,
crazy enough to leap bare-legged into freezing Lake Champlain
and actually enjoy it.
Summer is not my favorite season,
summer is not really my jam,
but when elementary school is over
and middle school becomes my next impending doom,
we'll be biking, roaming, laughing
as we chase the ice cream truck so far it has to stop
and relinquish the frosty treat
that melts faster than we can lick it off our fingers.
No, I'm not excited for the summer constellations of angry red bumps
that'll surely appear on my everything before the week is out,
but summer means nothing,
nothing to stress over, nothing to finish, no deadlines
no nothing, except summer.
No, I'm not excited for the summer muggy, clinging heat
made all the worse by my thick hair and insistence upon being outside,
but summer means everything,
everything lazy, everything fun, everything sweet and cool,
everything sunny and warm and summer.
Summer is not my favorite season,
summer is not really my jam,
but as school break comes up on us quicker than spring can end,
I find myself longing
for summer.
Posted in response to the challenge Summertime.
Comments
I really like this poem, and I can totally relate! I don't like summer either, but I always end up longing for it.
Thanks!
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