Lea Lumière

The summer that never happened

 

Wilted sunflowers rope through my hair

I try to braid the sunshine in

Through sand dunes in my head

For when I go to visit cold

Sea salt aftertastes

barbecued on my lips

As I lick the wind and wonder

How long the sea will last.

.

Ocean’s jungle sound tangle  me back

As I surrender to the turning seed

The sun burns a tattoo in my skin

Will winter peel off youth like that.

.

Don’t go, I squeeze the shoulders

Of this old friend

Like watermelon between my teeth

Leaves fall instead of lemons

And lemonade turns stale on the windowsill.

.

Things happen, you say

As winter comes dressed in its fleece

And I pull off the layers before they trap me

Things happen, but I don’t want to

Spit the summer from my tongue just yet

I want to kiss you into forever’s never end

Swing into its freedom ring.

.

This summer is sliding away

Like trickles of sand off the surfboard

In the garage

And no matter how much I try

I can’t hold on.

.

I was never one to like the taste of sweet hot drinks

If the cold must come I’ll take it raw.

.

But maybe I’ll let the radio stay on

In the back room

And sing

Of the summer that never happened.

Lea Lumière is a freelance writer from New Jersey who has been writing since she was young. To find more of her poetry and prose, find her on Instagram @vintage.blue