My Mother Is The Summer
My mother is the summer.
She is the warm breeze rustling through the trees.
The bird songs floating through my ears.
The green of the grass, the blue of the sky.
The squint in my eyes as the sun shines bright.
She is what it feels like to wear shorts and a tanktop.
The salt on my skin after a day in the sea.
She is the clicking of flipflops.
The warmth I feel on my skin after sitting in the sun.
She is the fresh air filling my lungs, whipping my hair.
The crunch of fresh fruit and the quenching of thirst.
She is the warm sand under my feet.
The smell of dirt and fresh flowers.
The warmth of a calm, clear night.
The toasting marshmallow on the fire.
She is the campfire we gather around.
She is the songs of the whip poor whills.
The comfortable ambience of peaceful nature.
The chirping of the crickets through the dark.
My mother is the warmth, the happiness, the safety;
She is the fun and the adventure.
My mother is my summer.