You wore a dress as white as snow that day, my darling
as pure as clouds on a fine April morning.
Your skin was like porcelain. Fragile, treasured.
I remember the smell of flowers, lovely flowers, scattered about.
But compared to you, yours is a beauty that will never wilt.
Your blood-red lips, locks as dark as a starless night, the calm, serene look in your face amidst all the commotion.
I remember all of these.

You were a sight that made my heart sing. You were a beauty frozen in time.
But on that day that I will always remember, I wept with the angels.

Because that was the day that you were laid to rest.
That was my last memory with you.