We all know that Beth is going to die. She's still Beth. She drops things from her window for those who need them, like mittens and pens. Oh, my Beth...!
She's always cheerful, but one day she said that her needle was to heavy. She never picked it up again. Poor Beth! She claims to feel stronger when I'm with her, so I don't leave her. I wrote a poem about Beth, entitled "My Beth" I was asleep when she read it, so when I woke, I told her how much she means to me. She told me to take care of Mother and Father, and then, before dawn, she took her final breath and died peacefully.
I'm sad, but I know that My Beth is happy and well now.
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