Life.
That’s a beautiful word.
Or it used to be.
Now I can’t remember what it means.
I know it has a meaning.
I know that its meaning is precious.
But I don’t know anything else.
I don’t remember.
All I see is a white hole.
No, not a hole.
It’s everywhere.
White.
Wasn’t white once a beautiful color too?
Didn’t it coat my world in the cold season?
A color of peace,
Of serenity.
It still serves its purpose.
It’s serene here,
And peaceful,
But it’s empty.
Just like the cold season.
Winter?
Yes, winter is empty.
Everyone hides and shivers,
And the green disappears.
The green of life.