The moist air and bright green grass joined the stone and mold and tears to make the saddest smell of time.

No bird was singing, no insect buzzing, all silent, stood still as Sky wore the darkest clouds, beautiful and compassionate.

The gloomy dome reached the earth to kiss her cheeks. The cold breeze tenderly brushed her hair, in this garden of stone flowers.
Death its gardener.

And as the mother kneeled before a rose, the most painful of them all, a cry tore the silence and cracked the ground.
So heavy the burden of love.