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That Kind of Summer
Almost forty years ago,
Summer felt different
In its color, its smell, its sound,
The way it stayed on your skin.
The sun was kinder then, more patient,
Or maybe I just remember it that way.
It lingered a little longer,
Like it didn't have anywhere else to go.
Afternoons stretched without asking,
Filled with heat and small discomforts,
The quiet itch of rashes,
The kind you tried not to scratch.
And still, there was something gentle in it,
Something I can't quite find again.
Even now, I wonder...
Was it the season, or was it me?
