Closing a good book is like losing a friend.
But alas, all good things come to an end.

It’s like that perfect Fall day,
When the weather is just right.
Then you remember that it won’t stay,
And Winter’s just in sight.

Or those days you had as a kid,
Spending time with your grandparents.
Then you grow up; your heart becomes lead.
Your idealized memories merely fragments.

What brings you nostalgia? A person? A place?
Well I must warn you. Never go back.
When you mess with the ideal, you’re left with a trace
Of its former glory. Perfect memories scarred. Don’t backtrack.

So when that story ends, keep pushing forward.
Remember everything, but don’t look toward
Sodom. A pillar of salt is all that awaits you, my friend.
Because all good things must come to an end.