Katana-Queen

The conifers played the piano the night you died. On reflection, because of what happened, I expected there to be rain and stricken bolts of lightening. A perfect storm for an imperfect night. In reality, the sun set in a perfect ball of glowing embers. There was no need for fire, catastrophe would occur that night in many other ways. Our paths had never crossed before. Or if they had, we never knew it. I hadn't heard your voice, and I didn't know your name. Your voice and your name would never combine to enlighten me that night, nor ever again. The most important moment of your life, and possibly the most memorable of mine tugged us rough