A Summer Sestina – Poem by Amelie Lynn Peterson

A soft, nostalgic spiral of heat, sound, and memories that won’t quite settle.

In A Summer Sestina, Amelie Lynn Peterson captures the blur of heat, haze, and half-forgotten feelings—where earbuds replace thoughts and ice cream stains become proof we were here. Read now on Written Tales. Submissions are open for work that feels like a season stuck in time.

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Gas station bathrooms with no mirrors
Summer songs I can drown in to pretend that I’m not real
Going on drives/Hoping to leave myself behind
Bare feet in the sand/Earbuds in/Volume up
Waves of seagulls taking flight from hot pavement
High-power A/C cools my neck/Lifts my hair 
 
Newly cut grass at a public park leaving remnants in my hair
Heat waves rise off car hoods in my rearview mirrors
Summer smells like sunscreen/Smells like ice cream on the pavement
The smells make the season tangible/Make it memorable/Make it real
For those of us who don’t know what day it is/Can’t keep up
Long walks/Ice cream sandwiches/Lift us skyward/Leave us behind

A warm breeze tickling my knees from behind
Freckles across the bridge of my nose/Natural highlights in my hair
Sunlight peeking through the blinds when I first wake up
Aloe vera makes my sunburn look shiny/Makes me look twice in mirrors
Summer reminds me of dead friends/Friends who were genuine/Real
Looking out my window/I watch squiggles of hot air rise from pavement
 
I watch children draw in chalk on the pavement
They’ll be soaking up the season until it leaves us behind
Turn up the A/C, we’ll pretend climate change isn’t real
Life’s too long or too short/Let’s play dress-up/Cut our hair
I catch glimpses of a dreamer when I glance in fashion store mirrors
Here I am, pretending summer is forever/Pretending I’m on my way up
 
Here’s to hoping running barefoot will turn my world right side up
Hoping if I run fast enough, my feet won’t burn on the pavement
Sunny glow to skin/Freckled faces/Seasonal smiles reflected in mirrors
An atmosphere of hope brings extra sunlight/Leaves shadows behind
Summer is dead grass/Vacations/Camping trips/Blonder hair
Somehow the smell of barbecues makes the season seem more real
 
Oh dear summer, my favorite fair-weather friend, your transience is real
The earlier the sun shows its face/the earlier I wake up -
Then suddenly the days grow shorter again/But longer is my hair -
Until fall comes with the crunch of dead leaves/The cooler sidewalk pavement
We’re savoring the days before the geese go back to the wind/Leave us behind
Until the summer leaves us here/Hardly glancing in its rearview mirrors

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✍️ About the Authors

Amelie is an imaginative, multifaceted word artist who is easily bored. She can hear X-rays. She is unabashedly and undeniably neurodivergent. Her work has been featured in ScribesMICRO magazine, Fevers of the Mind, One Page Poetry, and Turtle Way's literary art journal.

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