Your lace lined silk gown
The number that lay gently draped over porcelain shoulders-
The one that's older than our folders filled with love notes,
None bolder within the eyes of the beholder.

The one colored black, and lace of white, discolored in smoke,
The one you wore when the fire broke-
And razed the physical memories, and you choked.

The only thing you had left on your beautiful form
When I met you in the eye of that storm-
Took you to a new home and kept you warm...

I'll always remember the flow of your swaying hips,
Creating an ocean of smoothest waves,
And your smile at the high tides of your face
When I brought out a needle and thread
To patch your slightly worn,
Sweetly torn gown and soul.

                   I only ever wanted you comfortable, my love.