#thejunklot

[saxy-party]

Assistance

The breeze of summer's prelude tiptoes nigh and soft unto my ears, it whispers dreams of twirling yellows, cool, seductive greens, and shimm'ring rays reflected in the sky. To you, my dear, lest sunbeams cease to shine. For summer lives but while this sonnet lasts; t'would be a shame to write the other half.