The sun wakes early, bold and bright,
Spilling gold on fields of light.
Blue skies stretch with lazy grace,
And time slows down its frantic pace.

The breeze is warm, with scents of green,
Of cut grass fresh and oceans clean.
Children laugh with ice-cream lips,
And salt clings to their fingertips.

The trees wear cloaks of emerald hue,
While daisies drink the morning dew.
Each sunset paints the clouds in fire,
Stirring dreams and soft desire.

Barefoot walks through dusty trails,
Paper boats and cotton sails.
Stars arrive like whispered lore—
Summer, knocking at the door.