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
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