These seasons are separate, yet the same. Although they relate, they bear different names.
Autumn. Winter. Spring. Summer.
Delightful in everything they are, they each have a personality easily seen from afar. Leaving the door ajar, why don’t you go see who they are?
Flares of light and whispers of snowy flakes. Filled with morning and warm summer lakes. Nothing could ever destroy what this place takes. Inside me, joy the seasons make.