As the first snow falls in the western lands, I begin to grasp the magnitude of our prolonged separation. The verdant hues of a once-thriving connection are now reduced to a mere glimpse of its former glory, hinting at the problematic delay.
With every passing day, the distance between us grows, making it increasingly difficult to rekindle the flame of our endearment. Though I gaze upon the vast expanse, I find solace in the unwavering hope that time may yet reunite us.
Night descends, enveloping the great river in darkness, and the twinkling stars in the sky reveal the capricious manner in which life drifts us apart. As I stand at the actual center of the night, I am left with only the whispered promise of the fleeting beauty we share under the moon's sole light, much like the brief dance of the falling blossoms that only come to meet you once again.