Sculpture

I need to see her again
Before what’s left of her is erased
Reduced to a pile of memory dust
scattered among the ashes
Of a long gone day
Let my pencil be a sculptor
Pulling my fingers as it will
To chip away blank paper
Carving away line after line
Graphite emerging,
Revealing the perfect words
Stringing them together
Bringing to life all my favorite details
Black and white buffed to color and skin
And sound
And sight
And smell
Until it has revealed my love
And polished a perfect sculpture
Rising off the page
In perfect articulation
So I can have her again
Before she’s gone forever