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.