Picture Frame

About a picture frame that sits on my desk

 

Sitting amongst the bric-a-brac

And scattered to-do piles,

There sits a little wooden frame

That cradles moments past.

In any room of any home

You’ll find it’s long lost kin,

The charges kept are memories

Of who we are and where we’ve been.

A tender embrace,

A baby’s smile,

Lovers holding hands,

A cherished family episode...

All frozen under glass.

By-gone times of happiness

With friends held dear or family guests...

A portrait posed in fancy dress

A snapshot of our life’s progress

A graduation day. 

These moments are our lives defined.

The photos... our screenplay.

Some black and white

Some yellowed with age

Some full and bright with color,

The yesterdays the frame displays

Are precious beyond measure.

Tis but a simple wooden thing,

This little picture frame,

But what it holds in gilded gold

Is nothing less than life and love...

A precious reminiscing.