Tinted Life

Pretty maids all in a row

Suddenly knocked down by a stiff wind

One by one they fall

From the grace gifted to them

It's hot where the sun doesn't shine

And it's raining from a cloudless sky;

The river's running black with secrets

And the trees are crying with despair

Old. The entire place smelled old. Old memories, old souls. It didn't matter that many of the graves had new autumn flowers planted beside them, or fresh bouquets of blossoms placed nearby. He wasn't sure if the smell was offending..but it was there, prevalent over everything that had been done to make the cemetery inviting to mourners, and those with memories that wouldn't let go.

The stiff September wind was particularly cruel this year...cold, brittle, and biting. It cut right through his jacket, and even seeped into his gloves. It played with his hair, twisting pieces around each other in a mess that no comb could fight through. The wind nearly knocked the small package out of his hands, and he held it tightly against his body, protecting it against the mischievous gusts. The wind swept back through the few trees scattered amongst the graves, whistling and whining in eerie tones.

Decisions made too quickly

Anger came too swiftly

And left nothing in its wake

But a dreaded peace, a sense of calm

That really doesn't belong

He stopped at the sound of a cry...a trick of the wind, he told himself. But the more he listened, the more it sounded like a faint sob, so sad and painful...the same sob he heard every time he came here. Leaves swirled as he kept walking...it was only a little farther. That sound broke his heart....he knew it was her, crying for everything they had lost. Everyone they had lost. She haunted this place as much as she haunted his dreams....he saved her over and over again, every night for a thousand nights...he was her savior. Her protector. And every night he woke up to the sound of an empty room, his heart beating wildly...

Left to wander dusty paths

Mind an endless void

Sand flies in eyes

That have been dry for a long time

Done crying, done shedding tears

That's in the past

The grave was nestled by a maple tree, offset by larger, more extravagant stones. The granite and brass marker was simple, beautiful, and exactly her. She would have hated having a monstrosity of hardened metal and over polished marble on her resting place. He knelt down and placed his gift on grave, directly underneath her name. It was a picture of them, taken shortly before her death. He had mounted it in a frame and was going to give it to her for Christmas, but never got the chance. He stared at their photographed selves...smiling, waving, laughing. Times that had passed, he told himself. You have your memories...it's more than nothing.

Easy come, easy go

It all makes sense in the end

Until someone boggles the mind

Bewitches the heart

Steals the soul

Empty vessel? Maybe

But the heart still beats

Just at a different rhythm

And the song has changed

Someone switched the music

And now he's dancing to the new tune

He stood, brushing soil and leaves off the knees of his trousers. He looked one last time at the photo, kissed the top of the headstone, and walked away. He'd done this every week for the past three months...and he never changed his routine. Until today...the photo. And her crying, for once, had stopped, as he walked back down the paved path, past graves and mausoleums. The simple and the lavish. But all had a purpose...to remember a loved one who had passed. Those who had died in their sleep, with family there to the end...and those who had died saving someone from an evil. Like her.

The wind crept back up behind him and sunk clear to his bones...but for once, he wasn't cold. Somehow, he knew that leaving that photo had helped her...and had given him the strength to walk away from her grave with a few more bits of peace and understanding. She had died saving him...he'd do all he could to make sure she was remembered.

Yesterday is left behind

Tomorrow has yet to come

Still walking that dusty path

But not alone anymore

For those maids have joined the quest

After their fall from grace....

Ron met him at the gates, staring past him to her grave. "You okay?"

Harry nodded. "For once, it's not so bad."

Ron cocked an ear into the wind and smiled sadly. "She's not crying today, mate."

Harry threw an arm around his best friend and said, "I think she'll be okay for a while, Ron. She's got a picture of us now. Somehow, I think it's helped us both this time." He took one look back and whispered, "See you next week, Hermione."

Is it easier now? Perhaps

There's still miles to go