Did I ever tell you about Summer?

I will.

She looks like Pochahontas, but prettier. She has hair like a horse's tail, but shinier. She has eyes like chocolate, but livelier. She has a smile like a string of pearls, but whiter.

It looks like spring, but greener. It has grass like a football field, but freer. It has beams like the sun, but brighter. It has warmth like a sauna, but cooler.

She laughs more than a laughtrack, and louder. She dances more than a TV star, and spazzier. She loves more than a president, and sincerer.

It buzzes more than a busy kitchen, and fresher. It grows more than winter, and newer. It loves more than fall, and longer.

She talks and giggles and secretizes and creates and plays and works and jokes and stresses and teases and wonders and dreams and aspires and sweats and cares and magnifies and honors and repents and understands and testifies and flirts and runs and questions and accepts and investigates and introduces and drives and serves and does it the most.

It shines and grows and lengthens and heats and provides and allows and explores and liberates and frees and discovers and runs and denies and extends and demands and teaches and shows and blows and gives and hollows and carves and reads and rotates and overcomes and brightens and forgives and introduces and drives and

Summer does them both the best.