I sense the coming of a season of the falling blossom, even to the very one that used to melt away my stress. One, two, three, four… The falling blossom is paving the streets white, and the fragrance of flowers carried by the gentle breeze is becoming obscure. Where you used to be, I see many different colors instead, and I believe our Polaroid memories will fly away under the wings of time..
and that never let my gratitude out to you.
If you will ever allow a single word for me to say, that will be my sweetest goodbye.


