Pictures, now, are strange to me
Once upon, what "is"
Has no "never be's"
Pictures, now, are strange to me
A snapshot back to a certain future
Laughter shared; tears, too
It precedes my doubtful memory
Pictures, now, are strange to me
Once upon, what "is"
Lives indefinitely
Unaware of what will never be
Pictures, now, are strange to me
Printed pieces of boundless time
Whose citizens are full of life,
Safe from looming trajedies
Pictures, now, are strange to me
Once upon, who "is"
Are now all ghosts
Free, from framed captivity
Pictures, now, are strange to me
Following the recent deaths of some family members, I've been looking through old photos and finding ones where one to all people have since died; the photos are becoming more bittersweet to me. I think it can be the same for people who are no longer in our lives for other reasons, too. I catch myself thinking "if only they knew..." but "they" is a totally different person because "they" haven't experienced "those" moments yet.
