Quiet rooms, memory’s gentle keep,
Whispered echoes softly tread the halls,
My friend now walks, beneath grief’s heavy shawl,
For her aunt, whom cancer stole from sleep.

Was told she fought 3 years with grace, as warriors do, so deep
Her courage, standing firm as fortress walls.
Yet even she, to nature’s order, falls,
And leaves behind a wound both raw and steep.

She was my friends summer’s warmth, the heart’s reprieve,
A beacon bright against the encroaching night.
Her laughter and support, once a brook so quick to weave
Its sparkling path, now fades from earthly sight.

Yet, even stars must dim, as we believe,
And end their watch within the vault of night.
Thus, in the shadow of her final flight,
They will gather close, and for her absence grieve.

But let us not be swallowed by despair,
For she, in us, finds life anew each day.
In whispered words that ease the sting of care,
Her spirit lingers, never far away.

Though now she walks the fields of asphodel,
Her love remains, a never-fading spell.
In quiet thoughts, where fond reflections dwell,
All hold her close, and bid a soft farewell.