Summertime Poem Novels & Stories

Or how, somewhere out there in the fading light, Ryder was riding around on horseback, fixing fences, sweat on his skin, shirt clinging to his back. I shifted in my seat, suddenly too aware of the warmth creeping up my neck. This was REALLY going to be a long summer.

“It’s been cold summer nights Since we drifted apart Cold summer nights Since you walk out that door Cold summer nights Ooh, here on my own” The song Cold Summer Night blasted off in Hana’s ears from her MP3. Humming, while taking in the sight of the starless sky on a wooden bench next to a manmade pond in the new shopping district in Daegu. She fell for the rhythm and melody of Francis M’s single. But it was the lyrics that struck her the most. As if every word was meant for her. Sitting alone near the pond, gawking at lovers and friends crowding around the body of water.

He doesn't want to be judgemental, but a few of them might be delinquent from appearance. He took the liberty to watch from above, his mind wandering who those new faces were around. He hasn't gone outside in a while, the community lacks children playing outside and the nearest park is across the highway he doesn't have a heart to take a leap into. "Don't you think the coach is working us out early? Tomorrow's the practice match and this is a 3-week training camp." "I'll be skin and bones if we continue to run in this humidity." "I never liked Summer."

Just focus. I scanned my notes... half-abandoned, messy, but still usable. The mixture already in my flask shimmered faintly. Not wasted. Just… something new. A start. Could I pivot? Build something fresh from what I had left? And then, like sunlight through storm clouds, it hit me. Not moonlight. Not mystery. Summer. The feeling of barefoot days and honey-thick air. Running through apple orchards as a kid. Laughter. Simplicity. Joy.

Summer giggled and squeezed my hand tighter, reveling in the love and laughter that filled our evening stroll. Inside the ice cream parlor, Hollis made all of us sit at a table as he went to order our favorite flavors. Summer’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she eagerly anticipated her scoop of mint chocolate chip. “Thank you; it’s because Daddy brought us here,” she said sweetly, making my heart swell with pride. “You guys never had a family outing like this before,” I asked, shocked, and Summer shook her head, her smile widening. “Nope, this is the best day ever,” she exclaimed, her eyes shining with happiness. I brushed her hair out of her face and couldn’t help but feel grateful for th

She would always tell me that it was her favorite poem and represented the love she had for me. It went like this, Come to me in your summer time, when our laughter is as the daisies in the grass. Come to me in your winter time, when you feel as if ice freezes your heart and blood. For I am your shelter, your guardian, your forever home... always with an open door, the key always in your pocket, and a love that is always yours. At that age I never understood the deep meaning of the poem but now I do. "For I am your shelter, your guardian, your forever home"

That I still had my academics, a career, and a future ahead of me to consider? But to Flora, my silence was as good as an admission. She looked around in irritation, and her eyes finally landed on the broken model in the trash bin. She was completely shocked as she asked, "Aren't these models your favorites? I always buy you one every year on your birthday, other than your other presents. Why would you just throw them all away?" I massaged my temple. "Flora, I'm not a kid anymore. Since I'm going abroad, they'll just sit here gathering dust, anyway. Better to throw them out now."

"My arms are tired." Melody giggles as Gage chuckles, their laughter mingling in the summer air. "We can rest for a little while," he says, wiping his brow. "What do you two think of kayaking? Pretty fun, right?" It's a glorious day in late July, the kind where the sun feels like a warm embrace rather than an assault. Sweat beads on Gage's forehead and trickles down his temples, but he doesn't mind—the exertion feels good, honest. Melody fans herself with her hand, feeling the pleasant flush of warmth spreading across her cheeks. The children, however, seem unfazed by the heat, their youthful energy still bubbling beneath the surface despite the morning's adventure.

I hate summer. Don't get me wrong - I love sunshine. I love fireflies and clear, starry nights and drinking iced tea in the shade. I'm not usually a grouch, I swear. But people who believe that's what summer is - the iced tea and fireflies and all that - haven't experienced a real Atlanta summer. Or at least they haven't inherited the overactive sweat glands that I did. Thank you, Blankenship genes.

The head of the orphanage found me in the middle of the scorching summer, which was why he named me Theros Sommar. When Daisy learned of it, she then said that moving forward, the summer solstice every year would be my birthday. She then prepared birthday gifts for me and even baked a birthday cake for me to celebrate. Ever since my gastric bleeding the other day, she had forbidden me from drinking again. But the mood back then had been just right, so I pestered her until she gave in and allowed me to drink some red wine. One thing led to another, and that night, she finally gave herself wholly to me.