Dearest Charlie

dearest Charlie,

Since time hath moved you away from the waves of life, I simply saw life so differently. The colors of the skies even whispered a tale of sorrow. It’s been like they say, trop. But like the existence of things, one must continue to change, grow, weep with the willow et accept.
hence, your tales sit not juste in the heart, it whispers on the shores of Long Island. Like at Lyold Harbour, the little boys running with their dogs, I think of you. My mental palette paints a picture of you daily.
I have tried to tell your stories but I fear like  any human, what we feel sometimes cannot measure up to the words that fight to pour. The expressions are weak, because your life was the most  profound thing to have touched the shores. I agree, I must continue. I must finish your stories. I must wipe the tears of every child that cannot tell the tales, as you have, to me.

Charlie, I hope that the colors you left me with, I will be able to paint your picture et hang it on my walls, until one day, the day that you have granted me permission, the world too shall read. They will smile, they will love et they will believe.
ne jamais partir.

Forever your Rose,

RS