She saunters along the empty path,Blossom swoops to kiss her in the wind. It's gentle touch, a starlit lover, warms her hollow heart. She felt the breath of a thousand souls caress her once innocent skin, now gently wizened by the years gone by. Each step her troublesome bones feel the rough and rugged ground clawing at her steps to slow her further. The aches in her rickety joints pull her down. Down. 

Men watch her, looking kindly at her frail frame. Where once a lady so stunning stood, now a crone who slowly creeps alongside the reaper as he waits. She won't be sad to go. Her lover's memory floats in the wind, his love wrapped in blossom. She feels him in the bitter air, like kisses from the cold. She knows he is there She can feel him. Sometimes she knows he is there; his aftershave fills her lungs. Love gushes from her heart as she knows his ghost is near. 

He was a spirited man, a good man, a strong man. A man who knew how to love, to hold his lady so close she didn't ever want his desperate embrace to end. At the end she held him tight. She felt that love, that connection, that special joining of souls and she knew even death couldn't break their bond. Their sacred bond. 

The path meandered alongside her mind, nothing clear, nothing bright. The crunch of the gravel hid the creak of her bones. Water droplets like tears on the succulent leaves, held her reflection capturing a moment in time like a shimmering fish eye photograph. She stops. Looks up. Paused. Waiting. She will follow. One day - She will be with him one day at the end of the path.