That day came and passed,
As she did,
As all the others have, and will,
Having been, and gone from,
Life, as if water in a well.
There's only so much,
And only so long,
One can conjure up the could haves,
The would haves and the maybes,
And I wonder
Is this the destined fate
Adorning all our graves,
While we navigate
This maze,
And try finish what we started
As babes,
And hand down our progress so far,
And hope, that inconsistent human constant,
That they try harder
Before they fade; these, and those,
Will fade,
As will I.
We both wanted to be writers.
I'm writing my book.
I wish with all my heart
That she could write hers.