Evanescent are those best, final sun-scorched days of summer—the last ones with old friends and silly memories and wide smiles, laughter free, arms hanging around each other’s shoulders.
Evanescent are those first walks home from school, an autumn rainbow blowing in the breeze, sidewalk cracks under skipping feet, books thumping in a bag, familiar homes illuminated by brisk sunshine.
Evanescent are those dainty winter snowflakes powdering all the rooftops, smoke drifting out of the chimney and firelight pouring out the windows, letting everyone see inside to loving families in matching tacky sweaters with hot cocoa and cookies in hand.
Evanescent are those first blooms of spring, little green stems struggling past the fresh, loose soil, flowers budding in the gentle rainstorm perfect for giggly puddle-jumping, with yellow raincoats and shiny boots and little umbrellas.
Evanescent are those seasons passing us by, gone until they come around again—and they always have, always do, always will.