Old photographs
Smudged and dog-eared
Sepia, black and white
Yellowed and faded
Frozen memories
Mementoes of a life
Polaroid snapshots
Kodak moments
Pictures from an old Canon
Taken over the years
Capturing the good times
Yet it’s all an illusion
In boxes, in the attic
In albums, on a shelf
In frames, on the walls
Ubiquitous reminders
Of seemingly a happy past
But she knows it’s false
An old prom photo
She and her boyfriend
Dancing and having fun
Where are the pictures
When he dumped her
Even before summer began?
Happy birthday snapshots
Of her only daughter…
She’s smiling so bright
But no prints exist
Of when her baby was sick
And she stayed up all night
A picture of a kiss
She glows; she’s in ecstasy
In a frame made of chrome;
But no cameras around
On those many nights
When he didn’t come home
Old photographs
Faded keepsakes
Tell only half her story
As if life’s a bed of roses
Happy remembrances; no tears
Never the misery
But they’re her treasures
Testimonials to a life lived
Of her time on earth
That once upon a time
She was young and beautiful
For all that is worth
On her night table, a picture
The love of her life
With herself and her daughter
As she drifts to sleep, she asks:
Is that singular happy moment,
All that life has to offer?
© Vic A Evora

A sad poem. One of the saddest I have written. Life is not always a party, it is made up of a few happy moments that we choose to remember. To make living less of a drudgery.

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