ame ya aranu
aki ya mukashi no
aki naranu
waga mi hitotsu wa
moto no mi ni shite

Is this not the rain, and this autumn, the autumn of old? Am I the only thing that stays the way it was?

It's October, it's raining, ash leaves fall like snowflurries, maples glow golden under the streetlamps: and I'm not going to New York to see paleaswater as I did in '10, and incandescens isn't coming here as she did in '12, and the fall feels a bit incomplete in consequence.