You're not summer, with the intense glare and scorching heat. You're not autumn, hovering in between seasons, indecisive whether to surrender. You're not like winter, with the cold barrier, willing to turn everyone away, like me.
Instead you wait like the perfect spring, for snow to thaw and buds show like a grand welcome into your warmth. You envelop me in your petals as if saying thank you for coming home to me.