As the leaves begin to wither.
And the skies start to cloud.
The seasons before while usually quiet,
Seem to become much more loud.
I start to wish for the sun to come out and play.
I beg for my sun kissed cheeks to reappear, and forever stay.
I remember and mourn every sunburnt summer day.
finally, when summer comes back around.
I will miss the brisk breeze of the winters.
all the filling h...