Beaches, (lived 2 blocks from the beach) bike rides, cookouts. The feel of cotton sheets on my skin in the hot summer night. Somehow those sheets and the sunshine baked skin mixed with exhaustion made me feel happy as I fell asleep as a kid.

I love this - only because I said "post-haste" about five times this weekend. :)

I'll wager that's the first time the phrase "fuck off post-haste" has ever been used in the English language. Let alone in a structured poem. Tip of the hat to you, Cactus!