Winter. She died this morning on her daily walk and went to her own little paradise.
With the scent of a bloom, the face of a flower, the warmth of the sun, the sounds of nature.
She was glitter and cold, beauty and grace.
Laid to rest in spring, among the trees, under a soft bed of moss.
With the whisper of a memory, a brush of sweet color, gathered in the arms of her Mother Earth.