Sometimes my reaction poems start out following cannon, or sticking to specific details, but then become something more original to me. This poem/flash fiction never happened in Doctor Who. It doesn’t refer to any specific companion. It’s simply about the unique potential created by the characters and situations of the show.
He knew she wouldn’t survive. Her kind never did. The tiniest of lifespans. Then they were gone. With all the others he could pretend it was meaningless. Dance through the whirlwind and throw them off— the majority of their limited life yet to live. Leaving him as nothing more than a summer’s entertainment. A cherished memory. Each of them just another song in his symphony. But her summer had come to an end and he had let her stay. She had carved her way past his defenses and he had let her stay. Her song was threatening to drown out the symphony and he had let her stay. She became so weak they had to stop dancing and he had let her stay. Then she was gone. And still he let her stay.