May

May, it seems a little redundant to write you this letter as you're flying by so quickly that twenty of your precious days are so very nearly done.

You to me are a transitional month. You mark the waning of Spring and the starts of Summer, you have so far been a huge tease; dangling the sun in my face until my bones start to thaw slightly and in the next breath I am reaching yet again for my umbrella.

The nights shy away a little more during your time, May and I don't feel as though I live my waking, sunlit hours at work anymore. It's liberating to be able to drive home at night without my headlights guiding my way. 

The sunshine brings with it a freshness, a light within me that makes me inexplicably happy; it does seem slightly bizarre that my mood is so dependent on the sunshine but that's how it's always been. I am an August baby through and through and definitely think I am destined for warmer climes. I crave sunshine, warmness and fresh air.

You gift these three things to me quite kindly, but I ask that you do so a little more than you currently are, stop being such a little tease, May.

Toodles.