A window to the past

A window to the past

 

The bright light goes off,

a few stars before your eyes,

a moment held in time,

never again to grow old like mankind will.

Some people say that a picture is worth a thousand words,

really its worth one;

a picture is not a window to the soul either,

it will always be a window to the past, present and future.

Whether black and white or full of life and color we see the past,

held to the eyes of the future republic,

you see, there could be a photo of the sun,

it holds no stillness of the soul,

the photo allows you to see how the was,

bright, hot, a never ending ball of fire.

There she is,

the college long lost to the death we know so little about,

a gray moment brought back by the imagination,

sparkled dress of blue, eyes of fire,

hot enough to melt the heart.

On the wooden floor she dances,

graceful movement of an angel,

arms around her waist,

a light kiss to the cheek.

Back again to the reality in which you curse,

a teardrop stains your memory and it turns black,

the ending is close,

lying there helpless, clammy, happy to be going,

able to hold your love oncemore.

In a pool of your life,

swimming to a time of joyous occasion,

a picture taken by  the anonymous,

forever held to the past,

a window now closed.