Love also has its seasons.

Like, for example, when we meet, spring happens - we are blooming from words, from compliments;

when we are surprised that we have the same habits, when we are almost alike in everything. Then summer appears, and we get hotter and hotter from passion, then autumn, when gradually the leaves of our dreams and fantasies gradually crumble and rush by the wind on the asphalt, because the passion passes and the sweet dust is erased from the eyes. And then, it turns out that after all we are not so alike with you. And of course, winter is a time of disappointment and glaciation of hearts, when the point is set where once we didn’t even dare to think about it. The time when the drifts quietly erase the words spoken by us, and the frost muffles our actions, because actions lose their meaning when it is all over. But there will be no repeated spring, because the memories, the past, like a film, will always pass before your eyes. Do not erase, do not remove, and remember always ...