Summer again

She jumped off the window, she landed on her mid-summer's dress. She couldn't care less about her soaked threads or her bare footed condition. She ran for hours, years it seemed. The fence of the adjacent state in sight, the little bugs some called butterflies crawled all over her belly, she embraced them as she continued towards the blue house. She woke to the warm smell of coffee as her sleep-numbed toes wiggled out the protection of the bedsheets. But she never left those summer she treasured in boxes, in Polaroids of girls and boys in summer lakes, in hand threaded bracelets of best friends and yesteryears of crushes and summer flings. She knew well enough her life had become a never ending summer of warm feelings, bed sheets, coffee pots, worn out yellowish pictures, and sun. She was running through wet fields and sandy beaches and wooden panels in summer homes. She was her again. She remembered him and smiled. He stumbled into the room, greeting her with a coffee mug, "g'morning" he said. She hid her face in the bedsheets, blushing again, cause she was fifteen again. For her it was summer again.