*☼*―――――*☼*―――――

And when the seasons change, I turn a new page everytime the leaves fall, carving the nostalgic memories on the piece of paper. When the nights go cold, I lay beneath the blanket of stars, connecting the dots inside my head that extend far into the sky. Would it have been better if I had done something? Or the past would have repeated itself under the same circumstances? When the afternoons turn calm, I turn my feet towards those familiar empty streets of mind, searching for the somewhat forgotten memories. Could it ever have been better if I had done something? The questions remain unanswered, mysteries unsolved, as the seasons change right before my eyes.

*☼*―――――*☼*―――――

As it may feel, the changing seasons, approaching summer, has taken a toll on me and my sensitive heart, making it harder for me to resist writing these.