I was at my desk at my old job when I heard about Nina Simone's death. I had been listening to her a lot, mostly her album "The Blues." A nice bunch of mid-60s blues such as "Nobody's Fault But Mine" and "My Man's Gone Now." Yesterday I found an old notebook with the fragment of a poem that I had started to write as an elegy for Nina. I never finished it and honestly the only good part was where I said something about her voice and the smell of leaves in the Fall. But better than that. I'm not sure I can write about someone who is still with me, within my sphere of knowledge.