On Dreams of Summer

I've been on a ridiculous poetry kick lately.  I don't even know what to blame it on.  But as I was walking down the sidewalk to Bertona a few hours ago, I took in a delicious breath of air, and out came this:

I dared you [yesterday] to taste the air:
The smoke of cigarettes and fresh cut grass.
You laid down in the grass right there to stare
As clouds with cotton faces slowly passed.
We stared together at the sun, lids closed,
Both blinded by the brightest blood red glare
And as we stared, you snuggled close and dozed,
And while you slept, I stole breaths of your hair.
Now, summer in this damp green city means...
Means hours spent with beauty in brown eyes:
Your freckles pop on knees, with grass stains' green,
Eternal scent of sunscreen recognized.
Leave lectures about holiness and sin
And hide away in grass that patterns skin.

I'm ready for summer.  Who's with me?