A tragic it was, as she was found, lacking any signs of life, faintness of cold blue, beaten purple, angry red, and phantom white grace her face. Water lingered and dripped out in the open airs of cityâ€™s winter.
As her waterlog body rested on the worn stone walkways, nearly only meters or so away from the bridge not far away.
With a night as quiet as this, it will be near morn until sheâ€™ll be found. Torn, wetly thicken; faded rubicund dress formed with a woman, no, a young lady, small child in another look in oneâ€™s eyes, barely just a year or so away from adulthood, now for every still.
As the city far from her resting place, rested now, but be lively soon. Seeing upon when the coming light of the morning sun, a small glim shined from her hand, grasped tightly, the golden chain bitten and ripped into her tender flesh, as strands of pink strained the chain.
As the locket, casted in the likely shade of the chain, molded in the form of a heart, gems of crystals outline the heart, with rope vines added texture as it scraped again the stone when the small waves washed over it.
The seal that held the lock tight from opening, cracked down one seam, within were words of sweet nothing from that could be said from a lover or soon-be forever love.
Looking closely to her face, frozen in time, slim streaks ran down her eyes, tears of a broken heart, for the love she wanted wasnâ€™t returned, or most now as the times have changed drastically, stolen away for simple survival in common land.
But harp little words of blessing, as this was her choice, as it was the otherâ€™s choice to toss one love or another, that was must soothed to loverâ€™s kin, as their backgrounds were far too different, for the long to grow than it already have.
Yet somehow, over heading in the hushed city, hanging above them, nor the moon or sun, but a lone star, brighten its way through the gloom and blinded ways of the common. A star northward, casting glimpse east and west, if when standing at the sight, does one go back, or go forward.
Maybe, just for this young woman, will forward her spirit, coming back stronger, and refining that everlasting love, that couldnâ€™t be found in world were certain rules must be followed.
Maybe in her next life, sheâ€™ll find her happiness, as does anyone else would do, in a drastic or calm matter to move on.
Found Drowned by George Frederick Watts
Made in the years 1848-50
Location when painted; Waterloo Bridge, London, United Kingdom