lines, color, and shape,
Make up a soft picture,
A vivid memory.
As I walk closer,
It seems further away.
I run to try to catch it,
But it opens its wings and flies away.
I try to hide and pounce on it,
The memory just fades away.
As I touch the photograph,
It disappears into the dark leaving me lost,
Without a memory.
finally without a sound,
The memory appeared.
seeing only blur figures,
In the photograph.
I wonder if I,
Did not capture the right moment,
of the life of a love one.
That I hold so dear,
scarred from the pain.
I realize the faded photograph,
Is the memory I took.
Not focusing on the true,
Beauty of their life.
I captured only,
her pain and death.
A faded photograph,
What a waste of film
Jan 21, 2010
Jan 21, 2010 at 8:49 AM UTC
lines, color, and shape,
Make up a soft picture,
A vivid memory.
As I walk closer,
It seems further away.
I run to try to catch it,
But it opens its wings and flies away.
I try to hide and pounce on it,
The memory just fades away.
As I touch the photograph,
It disappears into the dark leaving me lost,
Without a memory.
finally without a sound,
The memory appeared.
seeing only blur figures,
In the photograph.
I wonder if I,
Did not capture the right moment,
of the life of a love one.
That I hold so dear,
scarred from the pain.
I realize the faded photograph,
Is the memory I took.
Not focusing on the true,
Beauty of their life.
I captured only,
her pain and death.
A faded photograph,
What a waste of film