Faded photograph
"Who are you?" I asked an old photograph
Lying on the floor covered with dust, it's color faded.
"I was" it sighed, a voice like brittle paper's rustle
I was a smile that didn't know the years would fade
A memory in light and shadow carefully made
"Who are they?" I asked
Two young fellows who once had dreams
They were once inseparable, like the tongue and teeth
And here I am, alone, a silent witness of a story fall
My purpose was to hold what time could not contain
Joy, smile, pain, and a story
"You're not sad? To be worn"? I asked
A smile escaped the faded paper
I'm a memory from which new thoughts are born
I am the past, though faded, I'm still not meant to die
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This piece speaks so gently yet profoundly. I love how the dialogue with memory unfolds, giving voice to faded paper as if it were alive with stories. The imagery of being a witness, holding what time could not contain, is both tender and haunting. It reminds me that even in fading, memories have power to shape new beginnings. Your poem feels like a quiet embrace of the past, showing it isn’t truly gone but transformed. Beautifully written and moving.
Thank You. You've captured the essence of the poem and have fetched out it's true context