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