Was it when most of deciduous trees shed their leaves, with leaves changing to reddish or brownish hue before falling? When days get shorter and cooler, the nights get longer, and precipitation gradually increases? Yes, that season; but it has been five years since I have had my first share of it, or when I started calling autumn as fall and felt how it brought my heart this far.
Now, looking back at it, I never realized how I grieved to let the seasons that come after that to pass by quickly. But, the more I looked in the clock, flipped the sheet of every calendars, and read daily news papers, the more time, days, weeks, months and years measured down, and the more it trapped and paralyzed me mutually with it.
Five years, and I'm here again—footing on this same tree. The tree has changed, it has grown bigger as it gotten older, but it is still standing.
As of me, I am still the same; nothing varies except for one thing: I am lonely—lonelier than I used to be. Living a satisfactory life, but not functioning emotionally.
I am trapped, trapped by her memory, her smile, her radiance, her liveliness, silliness. I can't get her out of my system.
....
Now I am, again, here—reminiscing as memories flashing back.
