JUNE at last, and spring has passed
The torch. It’s time to play!
Children shout as sprinklers sprout
To christen them with spray

JULY brings heat, a mass retreat
Sets throngs along the sand
Seeking shade and lemonade
Euphoric, wet and tanned

AUGUST beams with golden dreams
Of warmth and fleeting bliss
Summer ends but still extends
A stolen sunshine kiss

The Summer sun upon the sand,
The kids with ice cream cones in hand,
The sounds of laughter in the street,
The hydrants quell the Summer heat,
The picnics and the Summer fests,
Bikinis showcase women's chests,
The people gathered at the pool...
But you're still stuck in Summer school.

Me ...the Sun burns
Red haired, my skin turns
So I sit all alone in the shade
For I blister, then peel
No brown to reveal
While others have tans to be made.

But no pity ...please
I now deal with ease
At the years spent avoiding UV
For I’ve come to an age;
Smooth skin is the rage
And I am the one wrinkle free!

The fiery orb is beating down upon the sand.
Lemonade, water fights, this is going to be grand.
This whole new season, is very quickly impending.
This is the summer that I hope will be never ending.

This season is going to be crammed with the pleasure
With the great soccer games and the quest for fake treasure.
The children need mending, and the gardens need tending
But still, this is the summer I hope will be never ending.

The summer time has come around,
The sun beats down upon the ground.
The sky is blue no cloud in sight,
It's just as hot during the night.
The days are long, the weather dry,
The temperature soars to very high.
The kids, they play upon the sand,
Their parents watch from close at hand.
It Makes me weep, it makes me cry
And if you ask I'll tell you why.
I can't enjoy this weather 'til
My shift has finished at the mill.

I don't like dust or cat hair either,
But I hate it when skies are blue,
Nothing spoils summer like having hay fever.
Atchoo! Atchoo! Atchoo!

What is there of summer in an office tower block?
Aside, that is, from eyes fixed on the office clock.

There is no sand here, nor a sea of blue and green.
Nor sound of seagulls, just the whirr of a vending machine.

The only water stays decidedly in the cooler or fish tank,
And the only view to speak of is a Wal-Mart and a bank.

The heat is the only part of summer to come and grace us here,
And the drop of sweat that moves down my cheek could easily be a tear.

Summer in August, July and June?
“Spare a thought for me!” I beseech.
My summer is not quite so soon,
But I’ll have Christmas at the beach.

The sun and heat stifle the soul
And sweat doth pool around me,
I search for words within to tell
The pain summer will bring me.

My breathing labours in this air,
My skin flakes to the ground.
The weather beats my spirit down,
No solace to be found.

I cannot think I cannot write
My muse is on vacation,
Oh, Apollo give us a break-
And find a new vocation!

When you feel a sunbeam,
Warm from feet up to your head,
Remember: slap on sun cream,
Or your skin will turn quite red.