A poem for Edie Dearest

Echoes hit the empty room....like the highest note on the keybord.....heart beat....the clock ticks and tocks. The echoes are tears of me, hitting the piano. I cry for her and her alone. She is my soul....my flower....She is wilted and gone. My body is a heavy stone.....as I weep for her. I sit with her as she sleeps in the ground. The wind blows hair in my face. I loved her then, love her I still. My Edie Dearest, wind caress your cheek. I laugh to my self, then I scream in rage.....Edie.....