The last words to his love were intimately spoken. The sincerity and love in his heart conveyed to her in eternal whispers. Read his last rights, he left that night immersed in the depths of her love holding hands; his warmth against her warmth in silent passion. On his body were the drops of her tears; even in death her love sustained him. She gently passed her fingers through his hair and kissed him. The marriage of souls could never be broken. The angels wept as heaven’s light received him. The violin of her soul composed a new song dedicated to the memory of many years; upon returning home indeed she did cry many tears. It is in weeping that the contents of the soul are poured out. Her love, oh her precious love, in the bed in which they slept, she reaches for him. In the cool air of the early spring, in her heart she writes letters. He is memorialized in the gleam in her eyes that truly signifies the perpetual love in her heart, for that gleam no other man could capture. He belongs to her and she belongs to him forever. The poetry of her soul are the loving utterances when in loneliness and in darkness … she calls his name. In intimate moments of her devotion she feels his hands moving gently against her body … she recollects his touch; she is moved with passion. He is neither gone nor forgotten, for he is right there with her in those moments sharing in sweet euphoria. He calls her name again and again in amorous whisper, and she hears him; the voice of her only love penetrates her consciousness and inundates her with dreams of their first kiss. Oh what a recollection of amatory! In her mind, again and again she replays their story. She is an angel in glorious beauty. She lies down next to him. His warmth holds her eternally.