I don’t have a favorite season. I have a favorite feeling. It’s the windows down, silent back roads with dirty bare feet feeling. It’s when I can walk straight outside without pausing to fish out a jacket. It is curtains dancing around my room because of the cool breeze that pushes against its fabric. It is sunsets after dessert and grass as my pillow. The sound of lawnmowers, falling leaves, and rain against the window. Pockets of shade and walks along a gravel road. I don’t have a favorite season, I have a favorite feeling.
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I don’t have a favorite season. I have a favorite feeling. It’s the windows down, silent back roads with dirty bare feet feeling. It’s when I can walk straight outside without pausing to fish out a jacket. It is curtains dancing around my room because of the cool breeze that pushes against its fabric. It is sunsets after dessert and grass as my pillow. The sound of lawnmowers, falling leaves, and rain against the window. Pockets of shade and walks along a gravel road. I don’t have a favorite season, I have a favorite feeling.
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