Sunny, but not hot.

Pleasant, some may say.

Wisp of wind from the west,

Called the departed home;

Whip-poor-will’s sad song,

Unsung for the most part.

We said our goodbyes,

As briefly as possible—

Loved her, best we could,

While she was still alive.

Took the few mementos

She asked us to possess—

Kindness ever present,

Spirit left behind.