She was white, pretty and cold. She was pure like the first winter snow. Her hair was pure white, her skin soft, her closed eyes dreamed in the peace of those who have left all worries behind. And she was so cold... She was sleeping her eternal slumber on a coffin of white flowers and dust, once a boat. A thousand candles lit her way down the river, twinkle-twinkle. Were the stars in the sky drawing her path to the realm of the unknown?
The sepphard boy cried silver tears as he saw her pass down the river and fade on the horizon 'cause he had just fallen for a wandering soul, a life long gone.
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