Even the sun rains now that the world is upside down and the heart of the earth is torn as misery is born. Tears are liquid love pouring from the spirit of the Hero who loved like no other-- who was father, brother, or lover to all who knew him well.

Romance real and purely his mark, his way of being, his eternal meaning
always was and will be the writer of beautiful thought-filled poetry. With never a lying a word or deed, he'd share the truth of the ages in his scribed historical pages and then of those times of fishing, his wishing to again to be with his best friend.

Well, now in his end on this earth, he is there by his side fishing on the fly with not so much said between the two, just the enjoyment of friendship that grew on the fertile
banks of soft streams and rivers plentiful with the bounty which was their quest.

However, because of his tenderness, he would gently remove the hold and set them free to swim along banks of croaking frogs and toads. He could tell what trees were there and the birds that sing their share of enduring songs. He knew what nature was and where it belonged as he simply enjoyed the freshness, the purest pleasures, of just belonging.

Now I have been so blessed by the sweetness of his love sent from above to bring happiness in times of stress and sorrow. Oh, how I wish for one more
tomorrow to show him how much I love him. But all that is left now is the poetry, the loved shared, and his presence which surrounds me.

When I hear a cardinal, I think of him. When I look at houses in my neighborhood, I remember how we both hoped we could buy one someday and make our
loving home there.

We never got to carve our name into a tree but his love will always be the part of me I hold most dear. He was so sincere, so real, so full of love, of romance and if I was given one last chance we would dance that dance we had both longed to sway holding on to each other in love.

His size was so perfect for me. He fit right beneath my chin and his arms would
reach around me. His beautiful brown eyes, his long dark eye lashes, his wonderfully full lips and strong square chin would take my breath away leaving me with a sigh of adoration and love.

When he wrote to me his poetry, I was alive with love. He turned my sadness into
supreme gladness and I will forever love him. For he is my last romantic hero and my first and only real love.

Forever His,
Noah Snyder