Sense Sonnet - Acher

 Young Widowed Bride

I, May bride, he, December groom,

A love we shared and then he died.

I would not put him in a tomb.

I kept him with me, still his bride.

And still to places where he played,

His urn of ashes I would take,

Beach and carnival and arcade,

Still in my bride's gown for his sake.

One day we two will not so roam,

Cuz like him, so old I will grow,

Be stuck in a retirement home.

So I had made a video.

To me, he always will return,

Holding his ashes in the urn.