He says that it is time to go somewhere else.  He says that it will be better on the other side.  It may be closer to the dream they once had when they were small, perhaps nearer to being who they had wanted to be when they were growing up. 

He says that it is now or never.  He says that the place may not be there forever.  Maybe tomorrow, no, they should have gone yesterday. Nevertheless if they are able to choose, at least they will be late together. 

He says that they will never make it here.  He says that they will soon grow tired of each other, here.  Maybe if they go away they will fall in love again. Waking up every morning somewhere by the sea, they will not be able to see just how old the day has become.

But the grass, sentimental from her shallow roots up, cannot leave the park.  The next day, no, it must have been the day before, the tree died in her arms