I was sixteen then. 
The whole world was one season: Spring.
I had flowers in my hair, 
There was much time to spare.
There were birds everywhere.
I was sixteen then.
There was this boy, 
Who rode a red bicycle down the street. 
He was tall, smart, and fair,
Smiling eyes with a gentle flare— 
A sight I couldn’t help but stare.
Suddenly, I was aware
That there were butterflies everywhere—
Fluttering, pretty, and rare. 
But I did not dare
To say a word.
I was sixteen then.
The clouds floated, and the season shifted. 
The sun became brighter in the ripening summer, 
But then, leaving behind the flowers and butterflies,
We went on our ways, 
Pursuing our dreams and gains.
The sun was high in an azure sky
When we crossed paths again.
I was twenty then,
In the valley, sun-dappled.
Time shifted as I picked, like apples, 
The courage I lacked to say a word,
With a heart full of courage
Finally when I lifted my head,
He had flown away like a bird, 
Looking for warmer weather.
And my sky turned red. 
Autumn and winter came, 
Sudden as rain. 
There won’t be Spring again.
I was twenty-six then.
