Sifting our old photos
has left me feeling
uneasy - robbed,
perhaps.
Why are these fragile
moments scattered so
carelessly across our
lives? Like a necklace
whose thread has snapped.
Beads rolling,
some slow,
some fast,
until eventually -
all the beads stop.
And in that breathless
pause,
left stood,
******* helplessly,
the neck left bare.