Just a little something I thought of last night.
She is leaving.
Although I do not want her to go, she stands in front of me with her possessions gathered in her arms. The time has come for us to both go home.
She walks away whistling, carrying her potted geranium and the bizarre stuffed owl.
My Sarah Jane.
She is leaving.
Although I do not want her to go, she stands in front of me determined to get her goodbye. We embrace and the time has come for her to live her own life.
She walks away, her daft metal dog following her.
My Sarah Jane.
She has left.
Although we did not want her to go, she was taken from us. Before we were ready her time had come.
She dances among the stars now.
Our Sarah Jane.