Dry, brittle feet clutch the earth
A warm summer breeze whistles through the night
Carrying a soft melody only for death’s ears.
His neck creaks. He exhales hope as it swivels around settling in anticipation.
Empty, blackened sockets scrape the darkness searching for something,
Someone
There.
A twitch in the jaw.

What a beautiful sight.

The graceful figurine leaps to a halt
Twirls in the naked moonlight as another breeze blows.
Hair swirling, shimmering in the moonlight
Dancing to the harmony heard only in her ears,
She glides effortlessly.

Dry, brittle feet indent the earth
As they maneuver towards her, the porcelain ballerina.
Hopeless sockets now filled with determination.

Only five more steps.
The breeze comes to a standstill.
Four.
The bony fingers tighten around the bundle.
Three.
Two.
One.

A step from the shadows exposes him,
The melody breaks.
She stops. Awkward limbs. Broken face.

The dancer trembles.

Dry, brittle feet saunter up to her
Bony fingers creak, holding the bouquet.
A fragile arm stretches out, offering the gift, note attached:

The flowers are for you.