Golden Season by Aezthrille

Aezthrille | August 10th, 2025 | poetry | No Comments

Poem

Morning comes slow like syrup. My arms sticky
with sunshine, can’t shake this feeling, this good

weight pressing down. Look outside—grass so green
it hurts. We make plans on the porch, lazy plans

that go nowhere. Ice cubes melt in our glasses
and nobody cares. Time moves different here, slower

like we’re underwater. Swimming through August,
drowning in all this light. But drowning happy, you know?

The way sprinklers sound at 6 AM. That hissing
that means someone’s awake, someone’s trying
to keep things alive. I want to be that person.

Always watering something. Always believing
in tomorrow’s tomatoes. My grandmother’s hands

knew this season. Knew how to hold peaches
without bruising. How to sit still long enough

for fireflies. This inheritance of patience,
of waiting for fruit to ripen. Sometimes I think

we rush too much. Sometimes I think we forget
how to be animals in the sun. Rolling over

on warm concrete, stretching like cats do.
No shame in wanting simple things. No shame

in loving the taste of watermelon juice
running down your chin. Let it run, let it stain

your white shirt. Let summer mark you. Let it
leave evidence. This is how we remember being alive.

Poet Bio

Avril Shakira Villar is a writer and youth leader from the Philippines, presently taking up BS Physics. She is an alum of the international organization WriteGirl LA. Her poem was selected for the Editor’s Pick Award for Summer 2025 by Words With Weight. She won first place in the Poetry Competition by Beloved Summer Zine. Her poems are featured in printed books of RCC Muse, Arcana Poetry Press, and Viridine Literary, alongside 21 poems, a song, and an essay published online in various international literary magazines.

Click to rate this post!
[Total: 2 Average: 5]
(Visited 134 times, 1 visits today)