As she frolics in the street underneath the dim street lights, it is dark.

A cool breeze surrounds her and hugs her more tightly than her mother´s nightly hugs.

Her eyes wandered and dazed into the gloomy night, she is confused.

He used to be her moonlight, he would guide her through the night.

She looked down and noticed her shoestrings are untied,

she bends down to tie them and remembered the first time he did it for her...

his eyes gazed at her like a lions searching for prey.

She is delirious.

Her thoughts are twisted.

She sniffs the air and imagines his faded old spice cologne lingering in the night air.

She is left with just a folded up American Flag.

His dresser drawers were still cockeyed in the left corner of their room. 

She hugs his pillow at night as if he was still there

singing ¨To the End of the Road¨ in her ear as she is slowly falling asleep.

A widow.

Too young to even be one.

She remembers his gentle kisses in the winter time.

Their names were still carved into the old oak tree up out on the country roads.

She is alone. 

He is gone. 

Now it is just her... gently falling.