With the wave of hands

four years full of memories

vanish in thin air.

​

Wildflowers bloom

beneath spring's haze, 

soon to lose color

by autumn's crisp breeze. 

​

You are staying too,

for the present and no more.

But for you I shush

the worries, regrets, and fears.

​

"You don't say."

no matter how hard you try,

or the times you cry,

you don't say.

​

So I flash on a 

smile, straining as it seems,

and turn back swiftly 

because I cannot see more.