Like the rare shooting stars, she would come and go.
Incredibly bright like the fullest moon
And a laugh as refreshing as the midsummer night’s breeze.
She has ways of sparking any one’s interest,
With her charm and amiable spirit.

She is a daughter,
A sister,
A mentor,
A companion.
A friend.

But with her mind changing with the seasons.
She is off again, chasing some other feeling some other dream.
Leaving nothing behind, but memories and few pieces of herself.

I know it may sound selfish,
And I should be happy for her,
But I find it hard.
For I did not get a chance to say…. goodbye, dear friend.