A box of photos
without this box of photos
faded, wrinkled, worn
how could I recall the years’ acceleration
of signposts blurring past ?
my early arm around my grandma’s neck
her hat of straw and flowers, askance
—‘til now my selfied face
with greying hair and skin like hers
many moments exposed to light and time
revealed by whim and wish and love
so what of milestones unrecorded
mislaid round corners of memories’ fickle
and all those hands that held the camera too
slipped away down other paths and roads?
no wonder how we clutch these pasts,
precious jewels, fleeing lives
consumed by fire and love
