I want no company today
but cold streams,
and misty grey mountains.
scattered with greyed, fallen trunks
as if thrown from the hands of some angry child
exactly match my mood.
I need cold winds,
My friend is leaving us;
fading away in her hospital bed,
by the cancer that is stealing her away.
Not so dramatic as a bombing at a marathon,
or an explosion in West, Texas,
her going is still a tragedy to me.
It is no comfort knowing,
that her memory will stay with me.
I know no consolation
from the wingèd spirits
so often mentioned in your platitudes.
My friend is leaving us...
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