---

It's nearing November

Wind tousled leaves litter the streets

in shades of orange,

like the setting of the sun

Soon enough she won't see another season

Or experience another beautiful evening

Such as this one, where clouds obscure a fading sun

Fading, as she would

Passing away, as if fading echoes in a cave

Things won't be the same

And it's hard to understand why things happen the way they do

But I guess there will always be a sickness

A malignant tumor

It makes me question why I do anything

Because in the end, it's just that

There's nothing

and I can't control the end

But the least I can do is go on for now

and hold on to this gift for as long as I can.