You’re a season. Your warmth enveloped me. Your rays of sunshine exploded into a countless fraction of light, bringing me to a standstill.
Your waves met mine. Your tide against mine sent trickles of water in the dullest crevice, keeping me afloat and unafraid.
I loved and welcomed your season. Every leaf that turned a hue lighter. Every leaf that turned a shade darker. Every leaf that fell in your wonderland and flew into your skies.
But just like season, you came and you went–all at once and all of a sudden. Your warmth, I realized, was only for the sunny days and never for the cold ones.
You’re a season. And though your lips are sealed, I hear the whispers of your breeze flying out into the distance and merging into a whirlwind I don’t belong to.
As I stand here in a vicious blizzard, I can’t help but think not of your warmth that was once mine, but of a warmth that will never be seasonal.
A warmth that will embrace me through and through.
