I have lost you on this day when I was eight,
Every Spring brings this day to renew memory light.
All days run in rapid race through works to cover,
But today's morn is dedicated to pluck the flower.
I clean carefully your smiling fixed, framed, faded face,
I wreathe and decorate flowers faithfully with lace
And incenses' aroma alters room's time and space,
And light memory is enlightened with memory fresh.
My memory reminds today how you loved me carefully,
Monday, September 5, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: art,death,life,time