It wasn't the first breath of honeydew air,
Nor was it the feel of your silk sweet lips against my own.

The dangerous bequeath of your love was once
a game well played, but the years pass with greater haste.

You were once a lady that would jump from planes,
And a girl that would dance the night far into the day.

One morning your reflection abhorred you as you
felt the wrinkles ringing 'round your eyes and lips.

For every tear you shed, there seemed no end
to your beauties demise!

The roses no longer smelt as roses. The air no longer
smelled as sweet as before this broken lore.

All of it led me to believe your heart was broken--
never to be mended, not even with my love.

And now I see how wrong I was, standing above your black silk
shroud--setting flowers of blue and gold.

Your skin may wither away and all fond memories of you
shall do the same.

Those moments are long away, and those sweet
retentions matter only now to me.

Every ring 'round your eye, every wrinkle 'round your lips
was one more wrinkle I would adore and most certainly kiss.

beautiful and sad....