melting away like an ice cream in summer
did I go to a happy place
colouring the world around me
with a palette of June, July, and August
kicking dust up off the dirted roads that I wandered
rolling in grass that always made me itch
remembering the hot sands between my toes
how salty the ocean tasted when I dunked my brave self under
when the sun got hot, I stayed still
stared at puffy clouds
watched insects go about their day
captured speckled backs in a cold stream
rode my bike all over the place
even with skinned knees
in this time 
I can still feel that breeze of another
that made the hairs on my arms stand up
toward a summer sun
reaching at my face
guiding me toward adventures
of carnivals and caves
of good guys against bad
falling down, falling over
as we faked it all with imagination
the best thing about summer is when comes
it brings with it warmth and smiles
makes you run and laugh inside
turns you young again
in times of summer
in summer times

look at the sun, right there
going down over the hill
at the edge of the ocean
the same as it did that day
when I smelled summer flowers
for the very first time
standing where birds sang, but not for food 
to tell us how beautiful it was
and we should watch
I remember the forest too, 
from which we had come
the trees, and...
how they didn't want us to leave
knowing we didn't want to go
by surrounding us with their scent of evergreen everywhere
we picked tiny needles from the fascicles along the way
as we ducked their branches and cracked a few of them that had fallen down
was the best we could do to hang in that moment
 still staying the course on the boggy trail toward civilization
from our childish play
from our childlike adventures
lazy strides at first
until we got to the grassy knoll
then we had to go a little faster than we were
for soon someone would be calling for us
their voice getting higher and louder
blaring against the hillside in warning 
because the dark was coming to capture small boys
although, by now, we would have reached the field
as we timed it, with enough light to guide us
past the old the dog who was deaf and blind
over a thatch fence that gave tiny hands splinters if you were not careful
ten year old friends breaking off in their own directions
until they reach their paths to home
tired for bed, ready for dreams
of doing it all again tomorrow...
 and the day after...
...and the day after that
just before the summer sun disappears