SOUL MAGAZINE | POETRY | LIFE
Memories Unearthed
Unraveling the story behind an old photo
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Dusty shelves hold secrets, in volumes bound by time, An accidental find, a photograph, a mime. My fingers halt, on textures worn, a sight unseen, A captured moment, frozen, in sepia tones between.
“Look at us,” I whisper, to shadows dancing near, The faces from the past were suddenly so clear. Youthful smiles, emboldened, in a sun-kissed haze, Companionship is unspoken in our carefree days.
“Recall our adventures,” a voice, my own, yet strange, Through the veil of years, perceptions rearrange. Paths diverged, lives scattered, like leaves in a storm, Yet here in this image, our bonds are forever warm.
Laughter echoed through the corridors of time, Not a simple echo, but a symphony, sublime. Each gesture, each glance, a narrative unfolds, Not in grandeur written, but in the heart it holds.
How peculiar, this journey, from past to present thread, A photograph, a catalyst, for thoughts long thought dead. For a moment, suspended, I’m both here and there, In the company of ghosts, in the stillness, we share.
So I speak to the silence, with a heart both heavy and light, “Thank you for this voyage, from morning into night.” A photo is mere paper, yet its power is immense, Bridging years and emotions, with a resonance, intense.
Thus, I place it gently, back within its tome, A beacon of what was, in this present home. Memories, like rivers, to the sea they flow, But in this quiet moment, it’s enough to know.
Within these pages, a part of me remains, Bound by love and laughter, enduring all pains. A snapshot of existence, a whisper through the years, Carrying the essence of all our hopes and fears.
In this simple act of remembrance, I find a truth profound, In every life, a story, in every silence, a sound. For though the years may carry us, to shores far and wide, It’s in these small moments that we truly reside.
So, to the future, I turn, with a glance back at the past, Knowing well, these memories, in my heart, will last. A photograph, a keepsake, of times both bitter and sweet, A reminder of our journey, ever incomplete.
| C.J. Coop © 2024. All rights reserved. |
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