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Posted by Mike Winstead ( on December 20, 2001 at 19:44:41:

In Reply to: Weave Prose Section: Add yours! posted by Penny on May 31, 1999 at 15:16:37:

Her hair was as red as the setting sun. Her smile brought joy to my heart in even the saddest of times and the most difficult of endeavors. Her fragrance, that of a rare flower, forever encased in the sweet memories that rest eternally in the back of my mind. Her warm and caressing touch could soothe my soul and heal those ever-present wounds of the heart. Her deep and passionate eyes would look upon me with a fondness I had never seen, and have yet to see again. And through all this beauty, this poised grace that seemed never-ending and never-spent, she was nieve to it all. She will never know with how much love I looked upon her. In those long nights I spent alone, how she became the object of all my thoughts and all my dreams. She was my one true love. She showed me more of life and love, pleasure and pain, joy and sadness, then any other. She taught me the most important lesson of all, that I knew nothing. For this I am forever in her debt. In each tear that falls, I will think of her. In each sunset that I bear witness to, I will know her again in my memories. She is, she was, she will always beáMy true love.

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