The Soul of Summer

Summer doesn’t shout — it sings,

In quiet waves and humming things.

It lives in light that warms the skin,

And memories that bloom within.

It’s more than heat, or skies so wide —

It’s freedom with no need to hide.

It’s laughter tangled in the trees,

And whispered love upon the breeze.

It’s barefoot walks through fields of gold,

And stories only silence told.

A time when hearts are soft and free,

Unfolding like the endless sea.

It’s midnight air and moonlit skin,

Where something sacred stirs within.

The soul remembers—slow and sweet—

That joy can live in small, soft beats.

And though it fades, as seasons do,

Summer leaves a part of you.

A golden ache, a quiet flame,

That burns all year — without a name.