The autumn air, the falling leaves, the smell of hope
The children laugh and play with graceful innocence
Little sweet angelic Bethany smiles as she skips rope
Her eyes burn with a secret pain, but no signs of vengeance
She runs towards her mother and heavily plops down
Her head is covered with a sweater knit winter hat
Peering over, I notice the color of her eyes, an olive brown
"Let's go home. I'm tired," she says, her voice, flat.
Bethany hurriedly removes her winter hat due to perspiration
My curious eyes glance over once more to see her bare head
I feel an enormous lump in my throat as my limbs stiffen
A young victim of such a incurable sickness, my heart bled
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