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That First Taste of Summer on the Tongue
A Prose Poem
Do you remember?
The ocean calls to me in her language of siren song. I let the sands bury my feet as the tide rushes in and threatens to topple me over. But I stand upright, as I always did — even when the rush of you came at me like a lightning strike in the dark.
We were always like those waves — unpredictable, powerful, unstoppable.
Do you remember?
The fruit always tastes better in the middle months of June to August. Strawberries, peaches, watermelon, oranges — each one is a burst of flavor that sinks deep inside of me and makes me long for nights when we’d sit in lawn chairs in the backyard and watch the fireflies dance in midair. Even a kiss wouldn’t have brought back the same nostalgia.
We were always one step too late, a song out of tune before the dance floor cleared.
Do you remember?
The sun beckons us closer, crooking her finger and leading us on new adventures every day. And everything is so green — like your eyes, like the grass of a vibrant earth renewing herself, like the limes for the drinks we made for ourselves and hid.
We were always looking for one more excuse to stay in the light.
