Even after all these years,
I don't know what to do with your memory...
The other day I heard your story once again,
This time from someone else...
There are a lot of mes and a lot of yous,
And I keep making the same mistake...
Tell me how many times must you leave in a hurry,
Before I get back to you in time....
Just once, midway, as you scratch your note...
"I love spring. Spring is pretty,
When she comes, forget me."
