My summer was bright, yellow and beautifully vivid. The majestic oak tree had seen everything. Amongst the exotic wilderness, the beauty was strange. The air surrounding us was mute. Time was at halt as we gazed above the clear skies past the green foliage of shady bliss. We watched the clouds move. Steady. Simple. Synchronizing to build our horizon.

The coolness of the grass would nip into my body like soft needles. We would share mischievous whispers. The garden roses seemed to be peeping at us through a stained white fence as we enjoyed secret chuckles. The summer heat faded away. The warmth of our friendship had begun to grow. We would glare into the sight of each other, only to find ourselves diving into timeless pleasure. 

The elusive smile. Black stony eyes. The summer was young. This journey seemed ambiguous. But my curiosity kept me captivated. It was peculiar. But thrilling. Like an innocent addiction. The shadows grew darker. I slipped my hand through his neck. Unspoken temptations began to develop. Dangerous ambitions welcoming us to friendly terror. I heard noises that were neither safe nor frightening. I lost myself to this prevailing invasion of the heart.

A flick of the harsh summer wind touched my cheek. I was leapt into sheer obscurity of the mind. He became the momentum of my deepest sentiments. I was building new memories. Until I was welcomed by a new found letter near the territories of our oak tree. I then realized that none of the memories were meant to be real.

The surrounding world seemed to be less inviting in my favor. Summer days became longer. As if they were purposely stretched to trigger my deepening anxiety. I found my lively spirits slowly fading to escape the summertime buzz. My only desire was to find a second letter near the beloved oak tree. I visited it every summer day in hopeful anticipations. I was a part of a hysterical tragedy. I lay under the stretches of the oak tree. I stare at azure. I watch clouds move silently. I still miss him.