We are nearing the end of summer. For some of us, summer has already ended. So, pack away your bathing suits, stop pushing the snooze button on your alarm, and hurry up if you want to even up that farmer's tan. It's over. It's not you, it's me. You can do better than my popsicle pushin', sun tannin', bonfire bashin', lazy self.
Why, summer, must you do this to me every year? You tempt me with your easygoing charm every year, and I fall for you yet again. Then autumn comes around, and I must face the facts. I have to get out my coat, hear the crunch of leaves beneath my feet, and wither away gradually until winter. I drink my hot chocolate, build snowmen, and buy presents for those I love until spring has finally sprung. And then I can look forward to you again, oh summer...
I run back to you every time with open arms.
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