A photograph in a weathered book,
I turn each page to drift in time,
Back to those days of love and smiles,
Endless sunshine,
Hand in mine.
For now and then,
I miss your face,
Time takes me back,
To that better place.
For photographs are treasures true,
Just to spend a moment with you.
Jayne Louise Davies
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem