When the winter comes, I'm innocent. Everything seems so old and weak but me. It feels like I'm the youngest being in the world of white. April comes and I lose my innocence again. The new life around me makes me feel the ache in my muscles as the flowers bloom and the trees turn green again. With every passing year, I feel the loss more and the gain less. I anticipate the fall more every year and, with the fall, I'm reminded that I am in fact not younger, but another year older.