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An April wherein a warm sunrise drifted through those windows of the soul, Casting a giant’s shadow from her petite presence, Thus, another day had been invoked. Was it a doctor’s smile? Was it her unimpeachable brilliance? Perhaps both had been combined, And having been present before, In Asia and America, too busy to meet we were. Finally, we spoke, of all places on Asia’s silk road. New York’s Greenwich, “Bien venue.” It was time to applaud and aphorize, “footprints on the sands of time.” Eduardo A. Cong Poet, and playwright. April 28, 2015