For her whom I’ve loved — and lost
The faces around me, blank slates,
Only one illuminates my thought.
As if revived by the sun’s warmth
The statue of her
Preserved in my mind’s gallery
Once again possesses life.
Savoring her company,
Written in Fate’s book as impermanent,
I do not wish to part with her again.
How cruel to label her the past.
Perhaps it is not the clock that races,
But rather, it is I who pauses.