Oh golden days of sun and flame,

I mourn the loss, I speak your name.

Where once the skies in warmth would swell,

Now echoes ring where silence fell.

The nights once sang with salted air,

Bare feet, wet hair, no thought, no care—

You slipped between September’s sighs,

A whisper gone, beneath the skies.

The boardwalk’s creak, the fire’s glow,

The dares we laughed through tides below—

All vanish now in colder breeze,

As autumn climbs through dying trees.

Your scent still lives in jasmine dust,

In rusted bikes, in ocean’s crust,

But like a dream too sweet to keep,

You fade into October’s sleep.

Bright-burning, breeze-blessed, soft-skinned, slow,

Sun-kissed, storm-chased, ripe with glow,

Salt-laced, star-drenched, warm and wide,

Honeysuckle-hearted, wild-eyed—

Carefree, cliff-born, sky-stitched, bold,

Wanderlust-woven, dusted gold.

You, season of the reckless bloom,

Now lie entombed in twilight’s gloom.

Yet still I keep your embered light,

A flicker dancing through the night.

So sleep, sweet Summer, stilled and gone,

But know in dreams, you linger on.

And when the world turns bright once more,

I’ll meet you on that sunlit shore.