For Becky

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
-W. H. Auden

I will mourn your death and perhaps I will mourn my loss. Perhaps nothing new will come that is good; perhaps, but probably not. Because all I have to do it remember the good that was, and your leaving is a little less painful, a lot less bad. So I'll still look at the ocean and I'll still wish on the stars. I'll still listen to the forest and I'll still rhyme with the man in the moon, and I'll remember that nothing good lasts forever and that I had you for your forever and now it's time to live mine.