Summer is sky blue speckled with puffs of white leaning down to kiss the shore. It is mint green sorbet dripping down your fingers and the linger of salt in the air. It is when all those languid days made up of long conversations, ice cold pink lemonade and lilac streaked sunsets mingle together to form a hazy twenty-four hours of bliss. Blink, and you'll miss it.
Summer is for defying gravity, second chances, and the tickle of butterflies in the depths of your stomach.
Autumn is made up of swirls of orange, yellow and red; a pool of fire at your feet. It is the faint scent of maple syrup staining your fingertips and finding fragments of nature tangled in your hair. It is the time for stumbling phrases and letting your doubts drift with the wind.
Fall is for falling. Falling leaves, lost souls falling for each other. Autumn is a gentle reminder that you are not alone.
Winter is the soft melancholic lullaby of raindrops against your window, the droplets of condensation clinging to the edges of your passenger mirror. It is the unmissable chill seeping through all your layers to reach your bones, and staying up late to count the stars. It is the season for cold hands but warm hearts, and coffee in paper cups discarded and strewn along the pavement in exchange for interlocking fingers.
Winter is an invitation for someone to thaw out your heart.
Spring is flecked with the rosy tint of hope. It is pollen tickling your nose, petals in a disarray lining the sidewalks, and lying down on grassy hills and tasting the last rays of golden sunlight with your fingertips. It is when flowers rise to meet the daylight, it is the warm scent of vanilla wafting through the air. It is sitting atop an abandoned building at dusk, tracing the skyline and having it match your steady heartbeat.
Spring brings hope to the hopeless; a welcome sigh of relief that you are significant.
