Memorial dreams and Stars

Only you, though I
wish Time had watched slowly
nodding gently, instead of prodding
forward, if bites of Japanese stollen
with plum leaves and pepper cream.
Time ran, suddenly my face
became aged, my body morphed
into decline. Wishing. Wishing.

Looking at the stars from
the perch of the winter onsen.
Begging for more time, after
the end of that Time, knowing
that the things here, Time
would not wait, the reaper's
sick scythe would still fall upon
locks and moments never again.

I miss it. I miss you. I wish
the stars could dance again, in
the night sky, so I could stare up
and dream.
Life and time, like a dream, a
dream's remains, the corpse.
I, a corpse, to look forward
on the moribund sickness
my heart flooded as foolish.

Still, I would give my hope
an offering to those above
and chance for another summer walk
just another ramen night.