The sun drowns out the words
placed precisely across the page.
They dissappear in the luminous rays,
making the book nothing but black lines
and curves, broken and scattered.
I am unusually aware of my toes.
They're turning pink from the heat,
almost as if they're embarrassed to be
residing among the overgrown blades of grass.
I lay back and close my eyes, instantly
feeling my skin absorb warmth, and though
it turns my face sticky with sweat, it reminds me
of a flannel robe in winter because of
the comfort it brings.
It's summer.
And that's all I need.
