Gently tickling one's arm
Delicate wings that will quiver no more
With the waning of the season
The warmth of a hug from a treasured friend
Hours before her tranquil death
Though life with one's cherished angel dead is fraught
With misery, sorrowful despair
It brings, through the acute suffering
A tender remembrance
A sensitivity to the minute details of human existence
Tears of joy, intensity of feeling
A deeper understanding of one's inner self
And so, it is true what they say
It is better to have loved and lost
Than to have never loved at all