The argument is... inevitable.
The season took her shape with grace, heat grew, sunshine embraced. The season took her shape with woe, with grey footsteps in the snow...
The season took her charming form, dark skyline now transformed. The season took her shape with glee, with raindrops setting flowers free.
The season took a form so pure with heat radiating from the core. The season took a form so true, clouds so grey but sky so blue...
The season took a form of art, rainbows warming every heart. The season took a form so knew. There's no mistaking, her from you.
The season cast a sunrise shine, upon a world of yours and mine. The season then she rained so wet. You cannot please the frown so set.
The season she, with smile live. Cast her ray of red sunrise. The sunshine she, with laughing spark, gave a simple true remark.
'You cannot save the pen from ink, so why save water from the sink?'.
Poetry by Boneata Bell.
Photography by Boneata Bell.