photobook

the spine crackles

from years and years of reminiscing

as i open the old faded

photobook.

its pages hold

black & white

and sepia tone memories,

some faded to yellow

as much as the book itself.

loved ones,

both long passed and ever near,

wear childrens' smiles

and stolen kisses,

frozen forever in the way they were.

simple times,

happy times,

hard times but content,

vacations,

parties,

weddings,

and more,

all captured for future enjoyment.

i pass over them,

one by one,

learning about a past once forgotten,

committing them each to memory,

and filling in the space along the way.

then, quite suddenly,

i reach the end.

folding it closed,

i pull the photobook up

and hold it close to my chest.

i love them,

i love them all.

Reviews

[Jenny Wren]

I'm honored that I partly inspired this! I can clearly imagine the reaction of the reader at the end, I've experienced it several times.