and with soft, scented skin flushed pink
from a beating heart. And she moved.
She spoke, laughed, walked under sky acres.
Then immortalized inadequately in stone or words.
Crafted but cold, stationary, here and gone.
The aurora at the start of day
cannot hold against the fall of night.
Being granted immortality but not eternal youth
is no wish fulfilled. Fear of death,
natural as the sunset, twilight, darkness, acceptance.