A box, a shutter,
And some light,
A lens, two people,
Memories infinite.
His arm, her eyes,
The photograph,
Sun's out, clear sky,
Camera strap.
The black, the white,
The background,
The negatives, the light,
Life's countdown.
New glass, new frame,
His eyes, her hair,
Target locked, steady aim,
Please, handle with care.
Him and her,
They were glad,
That they were
Always told to smile.
A million photos later,
A distance of a thousand miles,
A snapshot of when they
Froze seconds for a while.
Hurried lives, shattered hearts,
Eyes drained, no light,
Camera stuffed in the dark,
All black, no white.
Two people, a chance meeting,
Let rewind for a while,
Timer set, seconds fleeting,
After so, so long, they begin to smile.
A new album, a new life,
'You and I, we'll be fine,
Throw all the guns and knives,
But the camera, it'll be mine'.
'It saved both of us,
We'll clean the lens,
Develop the pictures,
We'll tie the ends.'
Fifty years
Later, he was gone.
All her fears
Were reborn.
She saw the first
Picture they ever took,
Seventeen,
Beside the brook.
And she flipped
Through their life,
Page by page echoed
Their faded eyes.
Laughs and tears,
She was glad,
That they were always
Told to smile.
...........
What do you think about this one???
YOU ARE READING
Hiraeth
PoetryHIRAETH- (n.) A homesickness for a place you can never return to, a place which never was. Previously: Songs Of My Lonely Soul. *** A Song Of My Lonely Soul. A Ballad Of My Heart Whole. A Story That Was Never Said. When We Find It To Be Dead. ...
