When words no longer hold
invite or excite
that inward response
That once so gathered deep
within ones keep
of the visions of the mind.

There's a loss
a disappearance of sorts
that winged upon a fancy flies
then dies
deep inside the mellow chamber
of dreams.

The tears
that once as years
fades upon the old framed image
that like a crust surrounds
abounds
the only affordable expanse
the on vestige of what once
were little filters of oneself.

And here in photos are but the images
that once skirted as the dreams within
between and through
and true
like
the soft textured rolls
of film and paper, that now
rests upon the tables, the mantels
as reflections of what was.

And the words
still unapproachable
fails to grasp
or gasp
the meaning of the visions
that here once clouded a mind bright and full
Through
those promises of  days,  nights
To rest, now forever humble
To memories long gone.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph