Summer

What is the definition of summer? Is it hanging out with friends at the beach? Is it spending time with your family? Or is it just relishing the Sun’s rays at the beach? We may never really know, but we really don’t need to, because even the fact of having summer is the greatest feeling anyone could ever have. In my opinion, summer is about enjoying the time you have left in your life and summer is the time to live it. Below is a poem I wrote describing summer in my own way. But everyone has a different way of spending their days under the sun.

I asked one of my fellow classmates, Rachel Bechtel, what she thought the definition of summer was, and she said: “To me, summer means letting loose and having fun.  My favorite parts of summer are no school, relaxing, and swimming.” I also asked another one of my classmates, Maddie Siddall, what she thought summer’s definition was, and she said summer is “relaxation time”  -  a time to be with your friends and family, doing things you like on your own time.” Maddie’s favorite part of summer is being at the beach with her friends. “Even being there with myself is fun,” she says, “just to swim and go underwater and open my eyes to see blue all around me, and white sand at the bottom, is just magical”. She also states in her response that sunsets are always pretty at the harbor, so it’s fun to go and watch them. But of course, she adds, everybody knows summer is the right time to eat ice cream once in a while. She believes that summer is a beautiful time. Once again, the poem below is one I wrote describing my feelings about summer and what the season means to me.

Summer

I lie in the sand on the beach, I hear the waves crashing, rumbling and rolling. I listen to the sweet melody of the songbird sitting in a tree nearby, and I think, summer.

I swim close to shore in my bright pink swimsuit, absorbing the cool lavender breezes blowing and flowing ever so softly past.

Unfortunately for me, the ice cream purchased from the store didn’t last.

And I think, Summer

I play in the front lawn of my humble abode, feeling the grass underfoot, dampened from a storm the night before.

Lying on the hammock strung from the limb of a tree that has stood, forever strong for more years than I have been on the Earth, I smell dewy morning aromas of freshly mowed grass wafting past.

I again think, Summer.

Nearly floating on the comfort of my bed. I read a grand newly bought book, listening to the worlds’ softest lullaby of the crickets in midnight chirp.

I feel sleep creeping ever so slowly upon me, like a great, soothing blanket, preparing me for the new day to come.

Just as the blanket is about to envelop me, I think wonders of good, and grim, hoping my dream if I am so lucky to have one this night, is of good.

Then, the moment, just before sleep comes, arrives. My eyelids close, like two mothers, telling their children, my eyes, that it is now time to go to sleep.

And so I do, dreaming of more summer memories and adventures to come.

And at long last, I know, true summer.

Comments
One Response to “Summer”
  1. Mrs. Wright says:

    I will be going back to this story in January when I won’t remember summer and need to. It will warm me just to read it.

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