Fine touch of nature

Touch of snowflakes with winter nearing
On my face I do love till they perish
Cold softness is practically medicinal
The whitest flakes are ever scintillating
Sadly they soon disappear

Touch of breeze in the evening of spring
On my hair I do so enjoy and cherish
Swaying back and forth ever so gentle
Then stops suddenly to keep me guessing
What its next moves are

Touch of stream when summer is boiling
On my feet I do so like and embellish
It feels good and its energy is powerful
There I cannot keep away my feet playing
In the ever sensual water

Touch of autumn light of idyllic morning
On my neck I adore then even fetish
Cool yet warm sensation is so sexual
That touch-less touch is so intoxicating
Like that of tasty liquor