Picking through old photographs.
Recalling ghosts of the past.
Remembering people and places,
But the pictures are all that will last.

Just frozen moments of memory, of good times,
So long ago.
Of summers that died with the winter
Of laughter buried neath snow.

But then the snow melts away with a warm spring day
And laughter returns to my heart.
So I start life again, but still bear the pain
Of living while we are apart.

by Brian Joseph Dickenson

Comments (3)

Picking old photographs is a very nice ocupation though some of the old pictures recall painful recollections. I like your poem.
Memories are lovely but yet painful.But there is a reason for all. Sad but loving write. Patricia
This one is making me feel sad. Reminds me of leaving all behind. Nothing to keep. Regards Purple Rose