7 years of silence has seen 7 years of change,

And in those 7 years, I had missed out and lost greatly.

Young faces have become older with the creation of new faces,

But the creation of buoyant and sunny innocence is met with the loss of a mind; 

A beautiful mind which had never thought a terrible thought

Now is slowly becoming a dark and vacant place.

An alluring and riveting well-thumbed novel with its pages carelessly ripped out,

The Bully and the Undertaker become one.

But the new faces do not know.

Unaware of the blank stares and broken Cantonese,

The locked door and soiled sheets,

The dependence on unfeeling metal to keep feeling warmth,

The new faces do not know the soul beneath the delusions.

But I know. 

The pages of her life story torn to reveal only the pink cover and black backing; 

The author cannot write quickly enough to deter the impetuous bully.

The end is written yet the Epilogue is undetermined,

Yet the new faces cannot read.

I will be the storyteller of her life's work,

Her pages will be mended

And as her broken smile is met with broken hearts,

Her memories will become ours.

We are the familiar strangers.