There was something so enchanting about August rain. You still had the excitement of summer, yet there was the underlying anticipation of the stillness of fall.

And in the August rain, the pavement shimmered. And in that moment, if just for that night, all was right in the world.

She was reminiscent of autumn, tirelessly changing and evolving only to fall and be reborn again. How she dreamed of being like summer, spontaneous and reckless without a care in the world.

Some let life's storms tarnish them, but she was different. Even the most vehement downpour could not break her spirit. She saw it as an opportunity to be cleansed, to rise again glowing radiantly in a tainted world.

And underneath the harvest moon she hummed the tune of a distant lullaby, reminding her the heart was nothing more than a setting sun preparing for a glowing consummation.

She learned to rejoice in the chaos, for without the darkness she would be blind to the light.