He stood, a shadow of himself,

Half a man, missing half his soul,

Never again to feel warmth in his cheeks

Or life flowing through his veins

Only the once warm wind

Chilling his bones,

Staining them white and brittle

The stars and the moon mocked him in their undying cheer,

And the trees whispered and sighed,

Like lovers entwined like vines

As he stepped into the deep wooden boat

And untied the dry snapper'd rope.

The boat glided through the deep puzzled waters,

Carried by unseen hands

Silently receiving it

He clutched his only memory,

Never to be lost or to rust,

But remain as clear and perfect as the day.

He felt his life slip away

As calming hands brushed over him with silent peace,

Soothing his aching, icy heart

Until all pain was faded away

Still as he breathed his last

His hands still held what was never to be forsaken,

His memory, his soul,

Forever to remain like the flower in the morning frost.

Well that's it, hope you liked it.

P.S I know "snapper'd " isn't really a word.

P.P.S It would be interesting to know what anyone thought his memory was. Cheers.