Soften the prick of decay
With the memory of your gaze in love
Into my minds eye
I most certainly find
Our Self flying high
Cushion my tears on a pillow
Made from the weepiest of willows
These trees soothe all worries
Only growth above me
A new view that fills the hollow
Beckon the token of hindsight
This time we say farewell
Heights have been reached
Our spark, piqued
Knowing you sure has been swell
Absolutely beautiful