Gravestones protruded from the ground like milk teeth. An old, grey man stuttered up the hillside path, avoiding the overgrowth. Hunched over his cane, his withered hands shook but he persevered the incline.
A bouquet of roses was his only companion.
The frost-kissed ground crunched as the blue wind blew, however he was warm inside. His delicate heart glowing through his fading Christmas jumper.
He came to where he said his last goodbye, and saw her beautiful name still etched on marble. He placed the flowers, the date she left him poking through the petals.
“Hello my dear, how are you?”