'You are a season, seasoned by yourself...'

'You are a season
Seasoned by yourself...'
Someone me wrote,

'In you me finds summer
Winter running through mountain trail
Like a  Hummer,
And spring as a foggy smell dense
Like a parfum sprayed on glass mine, french,
And then your sky is blue and white
As if Christian, you, like a boy of a church,
And your monsoon is horrific,
In your water I just die, I my memories kick,
And your winter,
Like a wandering soul, aimless wait like Pinter,
Your autumn,
Like gas filled red balloons,
Me flies with you,
To get the happiness of your cool dews...'

You are season,
Seasoned by yourself,
Someone me wrote...

(Note: did someone write that to me? Well, I am not sure! )