To look so calm, a face devoid of emotion. Lips that never smile, eyes that never cry. They can never smell the beauty of a lilac or a rose. Never the sound of an evening lark to chirp and tweet from the branches of the cedar. Gone.
Never forgotten, so long as I have breathe in my lungs.
To die, must you forget? To forget, must you be dead?
A look, so calm. The last emotion.
Tears of the loved, salted, numerous, unstoppable grief polluting the souls of the innocent young. One day smiles, the next, a Stone. Bodies turned to stone at the behest of the living, or fodder for the plants to rebreathe their last breathes back into the world above.
live life to the full, to live as if one was to die tomorrow. And die they do. Not forgotten. But time will erase who they were, and memory will erase what they were.