My Lady In Pink

It was the twelfth of October, a trembling heart, When I dared to speak, to make a start. You said “yes” the very next day— And in that moment, joy swept pain away. The days that followed, tender and true, My world felt brighter, painted with you. On December second, at our farewell, You wore a pink dress—I remember it well. I held your hand—so warm, so right; Though time was short, my heart took flight. Each memory etched, so vivid, so clear— Your laughter, your voice, your presence near. The classroom whispers, your touch on my shoulder, A hug that made the cold world feel bolder. Your smile, your hair, your effort, your grace, The way you brought calm to life’s ruthless pace. You tried your best—I saw it all, But I failed to catch you before the fall. Bound by limits, too weak to defend— Could I have changed our bitter end? Now silence stands where we used to speak, No messages sent, no glances to seek. Yet still I wonder, in quiet and ache— If I’d had more strength, what path would we take? I write this not just to mourn or to yearn, But to honor the lessons and love I burn. To the girl who gave me more than she knew— My lady in pink, this heart beats for you.