Misty May, you are the sun

Dear Misty May,

I met mordechai today

He had chai, said he was fine

I thought he might be beyond okay

the sun danced on his shoulders

leaves, green and dancing behind him

it felt like you were the warmth from the window

as bittersweet as it is strange

the golden leaves that brought me life

well they all fell the other day

the branches are bare and feeble

alas, most things do not stay

though I wish you would

and I wish you could

promise that we'll always be this way

young, a little terrified,

incessantly trying,

keeping our sadness at bay

by watching movies, reading literature

your new interest in communism

my old sadness dying a little

Misty May, there is no wake

for me because you paint blue

the skies that were gray

Shillong must be cold

but you are the sun

with you around, good things always find their way.