You are the sound of Spring,

The birdsong filling the air,

The hope of a new year.

You are pain of Summer,

The lurid sweat trickling down your cheek as stealthy as a snake slithering silently towards its naive prey,

The agony of suncream seeping into your eye.

You are the sky of Autumn,

The caramel, crimson leaves gliding down; dancing as they fall.

You are the touch of Winter,

The crisp, frostbitten ground,

The end of the year.

You are family,

The loving embrace of hugs.

You are a bush of brambles,

Thousands of thorns inside,

Thousands of thoughts inside.

You are the size of a mouse but the heart of an elephant.

You are a bully’s conscious,

The weak, lachrymose feeling battling the evil.

You are a  weeping willow,

Each branch is an extension of the lugubrious sap inside; shrouded by bark.