Remember our lovely trip to Florence? God, how I loved you then...
Do you remember our dinners by the old church and how we laughed at the man selling worn out newspapers? And how we ran for cover when the rain just started flooding down. Sometimes I close my eyes and pretend we are still there. And I still hold your hand when I fall a sleep. Sometimes I can feel the warm breeze and the scent of you running through a warm lovely Florence.

God, how I loved you then. And still do...