The immortal features that never age
Are the visions of someone you knew
No matter their real age when they died
They'll be the age whence they last saw you.

You do not update, from the past to now
Unless a recent photo you did see
But even then, you'll still recollect
Just how they used to be.

For the glorious dead do not grow old
I’ve often heard that said
Their portrait displayed forever
In that gallery inside your head.

For them, in your personal eulogy
Be it written, spoken or sung
We will recall and sadly tell all
That alas, they died too young.