Bright echoes of life and laughter dance across the hall,
Her voice reverberating -
Thrumming the air
Like so many strings.
Just because she is gone does not mean
I feel her any less.
Inside her absence lies a promise sure as stone
And green as tomorrow.
But because my all-too human flesh is weak
I cannot help but mourn my state,
Bemoaning my loneliness, and in turn forgetting:
This is not loss, not really -
No life that vibrant can ever truly be lost,
Only transformed.