a hot summer sun

he was an early morning rain:

the kind that makes you sleepy with life,

nostalgic with memories of being caught in the

downpour that crashed down our backs

as we rode our bikes to your mom’s house.

he was a late breakfast brunch:

the ones that make you full for hours

on french toast and strawberries

and settles a soft warmth into your heart

that makes you appreciate the simplicity.

he was a hot summer sun:

the type you hate until you dive into

that cold, leaf-covered pool at his friend’s house.

the type you protect yourself from with sunscreen

until one day you get sunburnt, and you don’t even care.