At The Cabin On The Lake
Her name was once sung on autumn winds
Her laugh once echoed through the trees
Her beauty was praised by everyone
But she only smiled at me.
She was joyous and youthful, bonny and gay.
Her life had barely started.
But on one dark, cold winter's day,
Dear Bianca's spirit departed.
I met her first when I was young
On a forgotten path near the beach.
She was wading, knee-deep, in the mud and ooze,
Her hat floating just out of reach.
I swam around her and retrieved the prize,
Much to her delight
And she invited me out to her island cabin
First for dinner, and then for the night.
After that day we were never apart.
Our friendship had blossomed and grown.
With her, I felt strong and empowered.
Without her, sad and alone.
As we grew up, we grew closer still,
But our time together grew brief.
The snows of cold winter fell on our souls,
Tragedies brought us both grief.
Her mother committed suicide.
Her brother ran far away.
My brother, god forgive him, started in on drugs.
We were surviving from day to day.
Her brother sent her a letter.
I begged her not to go.
She told me she had to see him,
That she didn't mind driving in snow.
I called her up at eight that night.
I needed to know where she was.
Her voice was calm and reassuring on the phone,
Although broken by static and fuzz.
I begged her and begged her to stop for the night.
The snow was coming down hard.
But she refused, and hung up the phone.
I prayed she'd return home unscarred.
I waited for hours for her to call back.
But the phone never made a sound.
For awhile, I thought she was fine.
This thought kept me hope- bound.
Her brother called me late the next night.
There'd been a terrible crash.
Mine had been the last call to her phone,
Found crushed beneath the dash.
I left that night from the hotel in Dauphin
And aimlessly walked the streets.
Her death seemed surreal; I just couldn't believe it.
I tripped on a crack in the concrete.
I stared at my knee and the blood blossoming there,
And it hit me all at once.
My darling Bianca would never come home.
The last thing she said to me was 'Good Riddance'.
After the funeral, I stood by the lake.
I felt an eerie calm.
I felt her presence lingering here,
On my saddened heart, a balm.
I remember her with sad heart and mind
As I follow the path I make.
But I will remember with fondness our time
At the cabin on the lake.
Bianca Anasofia Danvers
Born 10/31/1990
Died 03/01/2007
Her name was once sung on autumn winds
Her laugh once echoed through the trees
Her beauty was praised by everyone
But she only smiled at me.
She was joyous and youthful, bonny and gay.
Her life had barely started.
But on one dark, cold winter's day,
Dear Bianca's spirit departed.
I met her first when I was young
On a forgotten path near the beach.
She was wading, knee-deep, in the mud and ooze,
Her hat floating just out of reach.
I swam around her and retrieved the prize,
Much to her delight
And she invited me out to her island cabin
First for dinner, and then for the night.
After that day we were never apart.
Our friendship had blossomed and grown.
With her, I felt strong and empowered.
Without her, sad and alone.
As we grew up, we grew closer still,
But our time together grew brief.
The snows of cold winter fell on our souls,
Tragedies brought us both grief.
Her mother committed suicide.
Her brother ran far away.
My brother, god forgive him, started in on drugs.
We were surviving from day to day.
Her brother sent her a letter.
I begged her not to go.
She told me she had to see him,
That she didn't mind driving in snow.
I called her up at eight that night.
I needed to know where she was.
Her voice was calm and reassuring on the phone,
Although broken by static and fuzz.
I begged her and begged her to stop for the night.
The snow was coming down hard.
But she refused, and hung up the phone.
I prayed she'd return home unscarred.
I waited for hours for her to call back.
But the phone never made a sound.
For awhile, I thought she was fine.
This thought kept me hope- bound.
Her brother called me late the next night.
There'd been a terrible crash.
Mine had been the last call to her phone,
Found crushed beneath the dash.
I left that night from the hotel in Dauphin
And aimlessly walked the streets.
Her death seemed surreal; I just couldn't believe it.
I tripped on a crack in the concrete.
I stared at my knee and the blood blossoming there,
And it hit me all at once.
My darling Bianca would never come home.
The last thing she said to me was 'Good Riddance'.
After the funeral, I stood by the lake.
I felt an eerie calm.
I felt her presence lingering here,
On my saddened heart, a balm.
I remember her with sad heart and mind
As I follow the path I make.
But I will remember with fondness our time
At the cabin on the lake.
Bianca Anasofia Danvers
Born 10/31/1990
Died 03/01/2007
