There was a bunny, sculpted in sugar and time —
a symbol too beautiful to eat.
I wanted to preserve it,
to keep it untouched by endings.
And right after, a watch appeared —
handcrafted over seven patient years.
Every gear, every polish, every motion
spoke of divine timing.
That’s what love and healing are —
not frozen moments,
but slow craftsmanship of the soul.
Maybe he wasn’t meant to stay,
but to teach me that not all beauty
is meant to be preserved.
Some is meant to be experienced,
felt deeply,
and then released with grace.
So if I could say one last thing,
it would be this:
“I’ll always love the memory of you —
not because I want it back,
but because it shaped who I became.”
A quiet farewell in four movements.