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The sun arose with reckless cheer,
And burned away the last of fear—
No clock could chain the golden skies,
No rule could still the fireflies.

Bare feet chased dreams down alleyways,
As time dissolved in honeyed haze.
The world, unbuttoned, sang out loud—
A symphony without a crowd.

The madness bloomed in fields of flame,
Where poppies whispered each one’s name.
The trees danced drunk with sultry air,
And dared the moon to meet them there.

Lemonade lips, and smoky nights,
The air was thick with sweet delights.
The stars were close enough to kiss—
We traded sense for moments’ bliss.

The grown forgot what duty meant,
Their laughter loosed, their worries spent.
Even the elders grinned with grace—
The sun had softened every face.

Children ruled the kingdom then,
With water guns and ink-stained pens.
Their stories scribbled on the breeze,
Confessed to flowers, birds, and bees.

But even madness has its cost—
A shimmered dream, a season lost.
Too soon the winds grow sharp and lean—
The echoes fade, the grass turns green.

Still, in that golden, breathless heat,
When night and day forgot to meet,
We lived a truth not meant to last—
A future paused, a burning past.

Author: Floyd Neal
Date: May 2, 2025
Inspiration: Exploring Summer Madness

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