White sheets, white clouds, white shrouds.
Cold marble skin untouched by frost.
Ephemeral elegance immortalised on a frozen face.
A flock of strange faces gather,
All equally chilled by the biting winter wind
To witness the passing of Lenore Fay.
A word of condolence uttered by a forgotten friend.
A word of comfort offered by a distant relation.
She hears them not.
The whispers fade as does the light.
Silence befalls the crowd once more
And the evening breeze chills their bones.
The sound of silence broken by a bell.
The church doors open.
Her father stands beside her,
Mourning the loss of youth too soon
As she glides like a phantasm down the aisle.
A man in black takes her hand and she is delivered
From the arms of an old life into the next.
With a loving touch she departs.
The last scripture is uttered
And the priest sends her away with a prayer,
Wishing her all the best.