In the middle of the crowd, I heard the crickets' song.
Laughter was muted as if to pay respect to one heart being broken.
Footsteps sounded like claps prepared to applaud the orchestra of eyes not meeting.

The once chirping birds sounded like cars honking.
The air felt heavy and the cozy felt cold.
And though it was spring, dead leaves kept falling.
And all the warm feelings were exchanged with a sad song.