I met a girl last summer who loved to write poetry. We shared a couple of glasses of wine, had a few laughs, and found out we had a few things in common. She was one of the only people who came to visit me in my apartment at the hell hole on Maple Street, and after Tony and I moved, I didn't see her again. I remember she wanted to publish a book on poetry she was writing, and she was pretty talented, but it never happened. The name of the book was going to be "Angels on My Pillow". Yesterday Tony told me her neighbor told him she had suddenly passed away from a brain tumor. I never got to say goodbye, so I wrote this poem in her memory. Rest in Peace, Sharon, this is for you.