Photograph

My stare, like a statue's - not a blink, wink or twitch - Deepened in the history. I lifted generations to my chest, But the frame jealously clamped itself Around the black and white haze of years. Time drifted; Memory tears; Wet warmth washed the venerable glass That mothered the dulling gloss, Kept it clean from dust of contemplations. Duty interjected. I bore a smile, Telling nod - Acknowledgment - Then unknowingly placed the fading vision Back down on the sideboard Until another year or so. Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010 family family family family family family family family family family family family family family family family family family family family family family family family family family family family