"You're my little piece of summer," She said to him, every day.
But summer dies, and nothing lasts forever.
The new slowly becomes the old, future becomes the past. Flowers open, then they close. Everything dies, nothing lasts.
"Your eyes are the sunshine," She used to say, every day.
But sunshine doesn't linger, and nothing stays forever. The birds migrate to the south, the tide washes away. The winds steal the fallen leaves. Nothing ever stays.
It's cold and dark, this long winter, with no company but the moon. She now has nothing left to say. Not a word, not today.
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