July dives in, clothes and all, brash and unafraid of his being. His time is careless, rushed, and often leaves whisker burn on a lover’s face. August is more tentative. Gently she slips off her socks, dips a toe, and tests the water. She knows days will grow shorter, temperatures cooler, and the night quieter. August is mindful of more time for fireflies, skinny dipping, and seductive whispers. August will always leave with a tender embrace, promising to return. Cherish your time with August. July has already forgotten what you meant.
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