My Poetry. Summer.

Beneath the golden arc of sun,
Where endless azure skies have spun,
Summer whispers, sweet and clear,
With warmth that draws the heart so near.

Lush green leaves in gentle sway,
Dappled shadows, light at play;
The scent of blooms, a fragrant dream,
Mingle softly with the stream.

In fields where wildflowers reign,
Children dance, free from restrain;
Laughter rises with the breeze,
Carried high through whispering trees.

The ocean sings a beckoning tune,
Waves that glitter under moon;
Cool blue depths, a sweet embrace,
Mirroring the sun's warm grace.

Long days stretch with endless light,
Stars awaken in the night;
Bonfires spark with tales retold,
Of summer love and moments bold.

Ice cream drips, a sticky treat,
Barefoot steps on sun-warmed street;
Hammocks sway in lazy cheer,
Holding dreams of yesteryear.

In the glow of twilight’s hue,
Memories form, both old and new;
Summer’s kiss, so soft and sweet,
A fleeting touch, a perfect beat.

© William Sinclair Manson 2025