Photograph Poem by Dyllan Martin

As I flick through the pages,
Still images paint portraits in my head,
They lay on mottled paper,
Whilst I stare in wonder,
There lie memories,
Of lost love,
Found friends,
And digs up questions,
Where are they now? ,
Do they even remember my face? ,
Or am I but a realic in the museum of their minds,
One thing's for certain,
My memories of all that is or once was, are here,
In the time line of life.