A photograph of you
used to mean so much,
used to say those words,
used to hold your touch,
but now they’re cheap
and love is gone;
the frame discarded
for another one.
My words were golden,
just like your hair.
Whenever we spoke,
whenever we could bear,
but I can’t remember
the last time
I said your name,
or you said mine.
I have a million pictures,
but none capture you.
Somewhere we divided ourselves
from the love,
from the truth.
Today became a distant thing;
an unrequited affair.
Simple as our beginnings,
there were no other things;
just you and I
and a tiny fire
we fed,
until it burned so hot,
we couldn’t deny.
We said the words
and made it fly,
Never to come down
for a lifetime.
All things wither
and all things die
and even if there’s only
one thing in my mind,
it will be you;
that first,
simple picture.
Nevermind the times,
I’m satisfied.
That one picture;
those few words;
are my whole world.
Erase the past,
misplace the pain;
I’d do it all again.
For that day,
is a picture in a frame.
Written on the back,
is your name
and that’s all I need these days.
HG -2017
