It has been so long, so very long. We have seen it blossom, seen it mellow down, and it has been fascinating... fascinating almost to the point of being nauseating. A distanced memory tells me that we had fashionable never ending discourses on love, life and all else. How we pretend to know, how we pretend to feel even though we are too young to understand! We changed with experience. We became such different people. It was beautiful while it lasted. Beautiful and fatally flawed. All things have a natural death, and here was a swan song made just for us. 

What do I call friendship? Friends are people who do things for you, not because you expect it, but because they love you. And love can only stretch so far before it breaks. I owe my friends nothing, they owe me nothing. Just that the world sometimes, sometimes, runs a bit low on love. 

Let it be forgotten, as a flower is forgotten,

   Forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold,

Let it be forgotten for ever and ever,

   Time is a kind friend, he will make us old.

If anyone asks, say it was forgotten

   Long and long ago,

As a flower, as a fire, as a hushed footfall

   In a long forgotten snow.

(Sara Teasdale)