Summer Holidays

Summer. A word taken two ways.
If you ask someone older, they'll say,
It's a time of heat, in the middle of the year.
But to the contrary, you may ask someone younger.
They'll reply differently, with a gleam in their eyes.
They'll inform you of the great expanse it is.
The free time they gain from the drag of school.
They'll make it seem grand and glorious;
But they won't tell you of the boredom.
The tedious tick of the clock, waiting for the days to drag by.
We sit inside to avoid the heat, the sunburn.
We daren't go outside, lest the police ask us to move on.
Those intimidating police;

They believe we plan, and then we plunder.
and so, we hide behind our closed doors;
and pray that the heat passes on.
We check that tedious clock,
and calculate when the next term begins.
We beg the boredom pass by.
The summer holidays.

Glorified boredom, that's how to describe it.