As the world Turns…

I lost my cherished daily friend
one morning late when she
went far too near untimely end
and courted immortality.

No prayers would change or keep,
nor tears as tribute alter
her final churchyard sleep
and all those left to falter.

There was no help or counsel,
no arguments to end.
All youthful bliss had taken wing,
reality to bend.

Changed autumn to a spectre;
with colors muted gray,
corporeal days had faded,
with every one that way.

Time has not replaced her.
The season still looms dark,
though not as chilly as before,
the deepness, not as stark

I did not solve that riddle
for years and ages, hence
the end of summer always will
be daunting, as a fence.

©sept2016.pjohnson.