and the poses are a thousand hidden words.
Old Photo Stories
Shoebox or album.
Reach for the past.
Open a cover
to the scent of a pungent journey,
rich in the plot of lost years.
How long was the story
held captive by old photo-faces,
that have smiled since boyhood,
or the last child of Rose?
Bound in a book, or this box--
what sighs now
released in the turning,
Plow through glossy
dreams in cream color,
satin black and white.
Standing too long in this pose--
rest and let a frown refresh you.
Sleep in your tomorrows' other blessings.
Don't hide the lines
caught in a flash
and held now decades
for later that night,
or next morning's light.
Kodak never said it this way--
yet never told a lie.
Looking through a book of years,
a box of gray and black and white,
what color the memories of time?
And other cousins calling? Grampa.
Never mind the missing years,
retelling stories new--
other people's stories
from the dust of this collection
over-exposed and under-protected.
And never seen till now.
ak 3/29/01 (rev. 4/1/01)