This year, another season has passed.
Memories have become faded.
The border between my vague dream and
reality has become blurred.

Even so, the dream I once told you of
had not a single lie in it.

Today was fun,
and tomorrow will surely be fun as well.
"These days will continue forever,"
or so I thought at the time.

Throughout the endless days I felt
as if something was missing.

I blamed it on these unnatural times,
and just gave up.

Today was very sad,
and even if I cry tomorrow,
someday the time will come that I can laugh
and remember the time we had together.

How much time must pass by,
in this finite existence of ours?
We'll live in the now,
and what will we find?