This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Scranton chapter and does not reflect the views of Her Campus.
The Mistress of Colors wakes up from a deep slumber.
she dips her brush into the ink of seasons
and paints a distinct red
However, she senses a skin-seeping cold and
knows what is near.
Winter’s calloused hands brush against his domain.
Inklings of white feather out before him.
The rugged winds raises an eyebrow, scoffs at Autumn,
and deeply exhales.
A gust of wind causes a tremor to fill throughout the landscape
sages of white adorn nature, wrapping themselves around
the foliage like a shroud.
Autumn grimaces but the gleam in her eyes cease to go away.
She winks and smiles
an enchanting smile promising that the
bloom of nature surpasses the clutches of cold.