When someone close to you is dying

You expect the bleak winter wastes of grief

But only experience the drabness of the steel autumn skies

It is then that you begin to notice the small things

A scuff on the readers shoe

And a nurse flirting with her sadness

In the shadows of the visiting room

For some reason this brings you comfort

As you sit next to her fading bed

You do not want to appear emotional and your eyes remain dry

As you study the incredible beauty of the late seasons

In her garden of lost immunity