Soft summer

It was an August night.  Most of the summer gone, and the new autumn still waiting to be born.  The dripping cotton candy sky hangs on the horizon, stretching its embellished hue to last just a little while longer.           

They sat in the car pulled over on the road, throwbacks pouring out from the speakers, a sense of nostalgia flooding the moment.  The boy’s dark eyes shone as he watched the sun continue to set, the colors in the sky blending into one.  The girl watched too, her mind in deep thought.          

She closed her eyes.  What is it like to feel summer?  His question lingered in her mind.  She thought of the exuding grapefruit skies that watched over gently crashing waves.  Soft sunrays that caressed her face before the sun went to sleep.  Her clothes smelled of bonfire.  A mild embrace of warm wind that would sweep through her honey glazed hair and her lightly floating sundress.  Laughter, happiness.  Laying on the grass, under the shade of a cherry tree, a good book in hand.  Cool water refreshing her body.  Her gentle fingers running through the wind on a long drive home.  Gazing up at the night sky searching for endless constellations.  Fresh fruit and ice cream.  Sand between her toes, salty air filling her lungs.  The warmth of the sun on her skin, like a much needed hug.  A sigh of relief.  A fresh start. 

She opened her eyes because she knew.      

“Soft,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.  She smiled.  “Summer is soft.”