A letter.

A letter.
Dear Mother,
You know a girl who loathes the cold but glories in the snow; you know me, born with a sunshine heart but shamefully protected by the icy walls created by society.
I know a boy who speaks of eternal summers with an autum colored voice, once cold as frost. Each night he coaxes me whit his whispery, falling leaves manner into tasting the sea salt air. He lulls me quietly to calm in his whirlwind questioning of life.I tell him he's a Saint, and when I taste that sugar coated doubt I remind him:
You've already saved me.
His tone warms to spring time; he calls me Hunny and I laugh.
Dear Mother,
I know a boy who talks of eternal summer, and mean me.
He knows a girl who talks about seasons, and knows she means change.

[special thanks to kimi for editing this.]