top of page

219: Summer

We are sun-kissed,

one part salt water,

one part watermelon juice

running down our chins.

At dusk the clouds look like they have swallowed

a lemon, glowing from within. I pray to God-

let this golden hour stretch.

There is a joy that lingers as long as the daylight.

It tastes as sweet as the peaches we eat-

raw, covered in cool whip, drizzled with honey.

The nights are for card games and star gazing.

The mornings are for coffee on the porch and counting

the new freckles on your shoulders and nose.

The air is warm. It clings to us like nostalgia,

like childhood, like nights around the campfire.

We are as bright as fireflies and as strong as the sunflowers in my mother's yard-

faces turned towards the sky. Can't you feel it?

Surely we have never been as alive as we are in the summer.

Written by Sarah A. Speed // Writing the Good

Recent Posts

See All

Every night we sit on the couch. Your arm around my shoulders, my knees pulled towards my chest. We eat dinner. We talk about the day. The dog sleeps, belly up nestled on top of our sock feet. And eve

sarah branding-hannah brii photo-69_websize.jpg

Hi, thanks for stopping by!

I'm Sarah (Are) Speed, the writer behind Writing The Good. I'm so honored you're here! To get more poems, follow @writingthegood on Facebook and Instagram! 

  • Facebook
  • Instagram
bottom of page