3 Months.


Wind swirling hair all around,
music blasting ferociously out the windows.
Driving down the highway like a race-car driver,
but with no cares.
Nobody can stop you if they tried.
Thermometers at a boiling 90 degrees,
the scorching sun on the bumpy, black driveway.
Damp suits hang to dry.
So much fun& memories
in such a teeny sliver of time.
Bonfires & sweatshirts,
romance& a golden tan,
It's the perfect season,
summertime.
And it's gone too soon.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem