I’ve never kept many pictures.
Maybe it is because they prove memories—
Some of which I’d rather not recall too vividly.
It was so appropriate
That I had to brush dust
From the glass with my sleeve.
This particular snapshot is
Of three people.
the word "people" itself is unalive, nondescript,
empty.
We are all smiling,
baring our short teeth.
My body is turned toward him,
And if you look—just there—
I clench his arm for balance;
The way my pathetic hope does.
How I long—yes LONG—
To put my hand—just there—
Once more.
I envy this little image
Held captive in a checked frame.
It will smile always.
That me will be blissfully unaware
of what is to follow.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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a picture captures a moment in time of which there are never two alike and which never returns. another definition of eternity. memories locked in these unique “eternities” are unerasable, and you so aptly describe one such personal moment in simple yet such eloquent words.
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