Summer came, you felt it.
The soft light breaking through the trees, illuminating the dusty earth. Pollen floating in the wind. Warmth surrounds you, but doesn’t suffocate. You remember the old things you used to love that aren’t as old as other old things. But it will be once you know it. You will miss it. Other times a bird swimming through the sunlight catches your eye. You’ll always love that thing you miss.
But in the summer, you miss it more. Some things can’t come with you, only memories remain. Fallen leaves can’t grow again on their tree. But it’s not a bitter taste, its one of love, of appreciation. You don’t love it like you used to but you don’t love it less, only differently. You know, like an old friend, you can always visit it. Like leaves, they come again.