You are the blissful melody the birds sing outside my window on crisp Sunday mornings.
You are the gentle Autumn breeze that picks me off the pavement and gets me on my way.
You are the fierce rain droplets patterning on my rooftop, sliding and colliding down my windowpane.
You are the abundant aroma of the fresh evergreens and the fireplace filled December nights.
You are the brilliant sunlight streaking through my window and dancing patterns on my carpet.
You are the subtle taste of the pine filled air with a hint of fresh pumpkins.
I don’t know why everyone is saying you’re gone;
you never really left.
Porcelain Prose 