Laughter echoes across the parking lot... I see the birth of stars as the sun stumbles in its cycle across the sky. The snow melts away from the crooked tree, ebbs its frozen tides into the distance. I stand between a thousand colours, forced to pick only one of each category. I am torn by the tangerine scent that everybody desires, and I only wish I could smell of strawberries, the fresh breeze that only he wants. But strawberries are out of season, and he is out of reach. I must choose. No. I would not hesitate if he fell into the sky and became a colour I could smell. But the cold steel pipe is forcing me to choose. So I do as the sun stumbles from its slumber and the stars undergo last rites, as the precipitation evaporates. I would not hesitate; Life, lost and left behind, goes on without me, for I am surrendered to the change of the colours, for I am only strawberry.