There was a time when
spring sang to me-
with its withering little petals
on her tiny little forehead.
It wasn't much of a beautiful sight,
"I'm going to leave now,
because if the old one stays,
the new wouldn't come here."
Her swollen eyes and tear-smitten cheeks
with those pale lips deprived of liquid-
she smiled.

I didn't know reason for the first time.