The lamp oil beside her sickbed burned through an entire winter. Cherry branches outside the window put forth new buds, but she never lived to see a full spring. The fingertips of France slowly grew cold. The hands that had once embraced splendor and painted romance could now only rest weakly in England's tightly clasped palms. Even a complete farewell dissolved into the thin air.
Theme: Spring returns as promised year after year, but you never came back
