A little picture, browned,
Had a tear on its edge
Where moth and rust
Plagued it away
Wherever was this picture found?
In an attic? Where dust collects?
A tiny picture, profound
In all measure, fledged
With beauty like gold dust
A blooming fleur bouquet
Like an old tea gown
It was tossed with willful neglect
It did, very much, astound
Those who pledged
Their direct trust
Who lived in that day
Who’s beauty it drank down
In honest respect, its object
An old memory found
In a river of images read
The old photo must,
Their very lives, convey
A time, awfully proud
And happy, and perfect
Love it! Yes, I truly do, your little picture as your poem, too.
Filled with so much imagery that it actually brings the reader into someones attic with a haze between the cobwebs, and sun trying to shine in a dirty window with an old picture that has captured your heart... Absoluty one of the best I have heard in some time, this trully moved me dear...... EXCELLENT! ! ! A 10! !
Always we find old is gold. Such old photos bring to our memory the thoughts afresh of those good old days. A poem well composed.
Not only did I enjoy the imagery of this poem, but also the style and the words; who deserve being read out loud with slow pronunciation. The rhyme make the words as tasty and exciting as the journey you took us on.
congrats on having this poem selected as 'Poem of the day! ' It's a beautiful poem.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The image held a message you needed to come across. A piece in the puzzle.