When Love Is Gone

I watched in silence as the elderly woman tucked a tender missive under the vase on a flat headstone. As our eyes met, I felt her thoughts. Wheels of time keep churning, turning days and months to years till the days become a lifetime and still we miss the ones who are gone. Like a bucket with a hole the sands of love sift through, the cold granite at our feet belies the warmth yet in our hearts, while the words etched below, like dry ice, burn the soul. After the old woman left, I felt compelled to read her words: 'I will always love you. I hope you like the roses'