We walked for a moment together,
A brief span from the years of my life.
I loved her as Irish love Heather,
And wanted her for my wife.
She was sweet as perfume from a flower,
Her beauty as a dew sparkling rose,
As fresh as a brief April shower,
But, our moment came to a close.
So saddened was I at her death.
How brief were the years of her life;
As short as a gasping breath---
She would never become my wife.
I'll never find, though I try,
Another as radiant as she,
Who stood on a pedestal, high,
For all, her beauty, to see.
Though years have passed since that time
Her mem'ry is fresh as a rose.
The love which we shared was sublime
Till our moment came to a close.
By L. B. Strawn
September 25, 1980
This is pure fiction.