Golden boy. Summer's child
With wildfire behind your eyes and scorched words burning in your throat, you are the heat of mid-summer's day. Bright. Intense. Coaxing.
Golden boy. Apollo's son.
Adventure lingers in your long shadow. A longing, a craving deep within your bones for something more. More than this reality can offer. Stories burn inside your brain, worlds that no other could imagine. Worlds that only a boy in the heat of summer could dream of, as he lazes about on a hazy afternoon under a canopy of leafy trees with a book open on his chest, eyes fixated on the clouds, and the sweet tang of apple left on his lips.
Golden boy. Wild child.
A thunderstorm crackles under your skin. Sharp and electric, with lightning illuminating the world below. Quickly you strike. But even that storm, which makes those around tremble, is needed to quench the thirst of the drying foliage. And then the sun breaks through the gray clouds that hung low, as if nothing happened. However, the air around is heavy and humid as a lingering warning as to what can happen again.
Golden boy. Sun child.
Long, sweet summer days burn inside of you. It flows in your veins, as true as your blood, singing the song of morning doves. You bring life where you step with the mischief of all the time in the world hiding in the crinkles by your honey eyes, and the joy lingering sunlight dancing from your lips.
Golden boy. Impish son.
You are the middle of summer. When curiosities pique and traipsing is well underway. When hidden trails are discovered in dense woods and the sunburns dust noses and dance along collarbones. When throats are parched and the taste of wildberries are just enough to satisfy that undying thirst. When hair is matted from sweat but limbs are too tired to care. When cicadas sing and the leaves deep and dark. When fireflies reach the end of their evening waltz in the stuffy evening air and porch lights are left on well into the night, their rocking chairs swaying in the breeze.
You are the time children long for. You are fireworks booming in chests as eyes watch in
youthful awe with a quirk of their lips.