I have lived, I have loved; I have lived enough to know how fickle it is, that love. Like petals, I plucked those memories from the flowers of my past relationships. And days breeze past like leaves in autumn from the tree of life. There are puddles on the way and I leave no footprints; there is no home, neither a calling. So let’s build dreams together but Know this: one after another, they keep falling. They say hope is a bridge between the land and sky, one is for life, another is for when you die. In between are the other things and us, waiting for truth and wishing for a lie.