I saw a photo of you yesterday Of granular colour Fading fast, Poor in quality, Seemingly hurriedly taken And badly processed: It was one I'd never seen. At first glance, I recognised you. A second glance made me pause As you were not quite as I now recall. Strange, having known you so well, That I would forget details; Laugh lines here AND there, The sheer whiteness of your hair. But my memory's snapshot Must be a composite photo of you, A mish-mash of different times And different moods. But it is fading fast, Becoming ever poorer in quality As time passes.