I wish to sprawl out on a white deck chair by the rooftop pool. Of luminous blues rippling softly with the scarce lazy breeze.

And close my eyes as my skin feels like it is expanding under the glare of the sun. Then dream of soft poems of why the summer delights me to a slight tingle in my toes.

But sometimes there are no words because what is, is just as it is.
And that's really, that.