Seasons

Summer has ended,
and I've never heard your voice
even once.
They used to swing with the wind,
dye this town orange,
and compose melodies
only a dandelion can understand.
I've taken refuge
in these melancholic fragments
of my memories --
how we used to be
two college students
chasing streetlights and shadows,
counting staircases and lonely smiles,
collecting frictions
and blisters in our feet,
and accommodating the thought
that one day,
everything will be bigger
than they should.
And here I am,
a lonesome dandelion
on a rainy night...

Need I say more?
I am still a lonesome dandelion
in this ever-changing life.