I think...

Summer tastes like cherries.
Like dry dirt.
Like salt from sea spray.

Sunshine makes a road trip.
Makes a smile.
Makes an adventure.

My mother found this poem....

The title is seemingly unsuited, however, the poem itself is spot on.

"I Sing the Body Electric" by Walt Whitman

I have perceived that to be with those I like is enough,
To stop in company with the rest at evening is enough,
To be surrounded by beautiful, curious, breathing, laughing flesh is enough,
To pass among them or to touch any one, or rest my arm ever so lightly round his or her neck for a moment, what is this then?
I do not ask any more delight, I swim in it as in a sea.

There is something in staying close to men and women and looking on them,
and in the contact and odor of them, that pleases the soul well,
All things please the soul, but these please the soul well.