Oh dear. Is that really the time?
It's one of those things you see everyday and you get used to and you see coming and it gets obvious and yet...
...you're shocked when it comes.
To be knocked down like that? A toothpick pushed over by a smooth breath? It didn't seem possible.
How could such a giant withstand scorching heat, tempest after tempest, time itself, but not such a trifling thing as the wind on the warm day?
It could have been planned. Been expected, maybe. Or not.
My heart will stiffen when I pass by and see the stump of your majesty resting comfortably, like an elderly friend sitting on a porch, like the faithful, faithless dog that greets you in the afternoons.
You will always be what you once were, and always were what would eventually be.
I will miss you, and I surely won't forget. The sun will remind me.