There lies beauty in death. Bring to mind the death of each day, and the skies resignation in soft puffy watercolors of peaceful pinks framed in tranquil lilac as the sun’s final exit creeps silently out of sight. It was such a day you made your exit also, from this world you wished away with your last labored breath.
The news was piercing and unacceptable to my ears. Didn’t we just laugh, holding our sides outside on a day the winter had finally surrendered her cruel stinging seizes, and your eyes danced at the diversion of a snow crocus beginning to pop its head out of the lazy brown earth, and soon spring would burst with lime pustules, dotting barren branches?
We both always adored the moon. Once, we stood on a veranda, smoking cigarettes and giggling like schoolgirls, intoxicated by the night skies. I told you it looked as if there was an enormous charm bracelet adorned in heaven with sterling stars strung along a giant pearl, luminously glowing in our drunkenness. We whispered secrets, by moonlight, hushing one another at the sound of slight footsteps, smoothing out our wide smiles when discovered out of doors in the darkness of an apathetic winter’s night.
The moon will never be the same now. That ever changing globe, waxing and waning, incandescently warning that much more was lost then the sun drowning in muted clouds that day, falling from the sky, signaling the moon to come and dance, one last time, while you closed your amber eyes, not to be undone. As winter escaped unannounced, you too my friend released your spirit to watercolor skies, and became a link and a star in the enormous charm bracelet in heaven, softly glowing with the pearl moon.