They held onto me and cured me from the disease of loneliness.
But the cure was inefficient when the summer of my life approached the fall.
The promise of the green leaves seemed distant, the once loved colors morphed into the colors I feared.
Dull, dry and pale yellow, ready for the fall, ready to wipe away the memories we held.
I let them go, fly to a far away world.
Burying the memories, I moved ahead, taking the cold road in the frozen winter to find my cure in the future spring.