I give my greetings to my dearest—
you still shine the brightest
among tulips in my memory.
And to the world well
beneath these walls,
I wish for this day to live.
I still have your name
carved on candles,
lit—in the silence
of your long-gone presence.
And time, as it melts—whole,
dulls the weight of longing.
But I can still hear your laugh
from years ago.
It still stings.
To the greetings left unsaid,
I whisper them to the air.
For my dearest memory,
I wish for your day—
to be the brightest.
March 23