Her major problems didn't feel so major.
For this one was bigger.
Bigger than any mountain she’d ever climbed.
Any sky scraper she’d ever looked upon.

More days passed,
More weeds grew in her garden of hope.
She knew even when she was gone,
The sun would still rise in the East.
April showers would still bring May flowers.

Long blonde strands fell like leaves in the fall.
Her skin became paler as days passed by.
Not knowing which sad day would be her last.
‘Till one cold day she flew with Angel doves,
The birds of peace.
September’s child was finally at peace.