Fall has come crashing down through the trees.

The chill creeps its way under my skin,

Seeping through my sweater as I sit outside and listen.

Listening to your voice in song,

Carried through my head by the gentle breeze.

Your words so few but meaningful and they fly off through the trees,

Reaching those who need a place to belong.

The halo hanging from the lamppost watches over me,

And tells me sagely to end this

Because you already have a soul to miss.