Although it is January, the air around me is warm. The cool, winter showers brought in an autumn storm wrap around my lustful body. Water warping to the curve of my plump skin. It’s ice cold nature leaving a kiss of goosebumps, leaving me to shiver. However this does not matter. The bleeding lows of the post December fog do not affect my heart. I am but a spring flower calling to her budding love. Enveloping my being in your body, your being, the warmth you lay like wool on the back of a mothered lamb. I am but a spring breeze calling against her winter chills.