Leaves fall off of the trees and flowers fade from the fields. Grass turns golden brown and it's seeds blow away in the wind. I sit beneath a tall tree and watch the sun sink lower into the west. I hold a pen and paper thinking of what I can say. You have been gone only for a season, but many things have left me with a hole inside. I am not sure how I will get to tomorrow, but I must try. In the end, things are getting more focused because of the pain. It sharpens my wits and makes me realize truths about myself. I can only hope that as a new season comes that I can come to terms with what I am feeling and that the passing of time will begin to mend old wounds.