"For you" he said delicately laying the flower at the graveside. And then he kissed his index finger and pressed it to the surface of the headstone.
As he turned he saw that the rain has stopped. And he looked up into the night to see the stars shining.
"Have you stopped crying my precious? So have I. I'm glad we can share this moment.... I love you."
He lay his coat down on the grass and removed his hat and gloves. And then he lay down beside the grave as he would lay beside her at night.
"I can still smell the sweetness of your perfume and feel the warmth or your beating heart". As he said this he relaxed, and exhaled a sigh of relief. "I'm heartbroken but I still love you darling". He lay on his back and took up the rose from the grave beside him. Once again he smelled its scent and then held it up to the stars, as he would an offering. "I wish I could give this to you" he said.
Curling up into a ball he began to gently weep. Lament for the love he had let slip through his grasp. He felt like a demon and yet missed his angel. He took the rose and its single thorn and pressed that thorn into his hand. It was long, sharp. And he pressed that thorn into his heart. No blood poured forth. Light engulfed him, first from the wound and then all around him. And he could hear her voice. Sweet and sonorous, like a waterfall, or a great choir. "I've always been here" she said. And once more he was in her arms. A ragged man clothed in modern garb and a beautiful woman, golden hair cascading down her shoulders, dressed in a pure white dress. They fell into each others arms. Their love not rekindled, for it never died. And that is where they remain to this day... no rain falls in heaven under the bright stars and the full moon above.