photos
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Old black and white pictures are faded and worn
the pain they portray is there in her eyes.
Innocence doomed from the time she was born,
no tears for a childhood she lost in the night.
Rifling throught photos,
Life comes spilling out,
Old smiles tug at your feelings,
Once Upon a Time happy memories buried under the dust from rotting away,
Growing up,
my grandmother’s house was a second home to me.
Greeted by the smell of lavender and sweet peas,
she provided a safe haven
The tablet hovers before my face
And captures it with an audible click
a still reflection of me
will join a sea of photography
and my lungs are about to be flushed
with eyes that are thirsty for their
The tablet hovers before my face
And captures it with an audible click
a still reflection of me
will join a sea of photography
and my lungs are about to be flushed
with eyes that are thirsty for their
She looks like she hasn't slept in days
I want to ask if the bags under her eyes are too heavy for her face.
When I take a pic
There is something that is shown.
From the unknown side
Where I look unfiltered but
Photographers capture a moment in time,
Each little movement in orderly rhyme.
From nature to people, photos aren't the same,
From color to black, photos are never plain.
Memories are made with one little click,
A photo portray a story ,
People happy , together and well .
You only see that story ,
No idea if they feel the same .
I take pictures because they do not change .
Life after college, it’s such a blur.
Paying off loans and doing work.
Falling in love along the way.
Exploring new places, doing new things.
Trying escargot in Frances Paris.
