The Photograph Poem by Kevin Cowdall

The photograph lay
Dusty and aged,
Upon a shelf,
Forgotten.

I found it one day,
Curled and faded,
Between two volumes
Of Shelley.

The images stood and stared,
Transfixed in time.
You and I,
Motionless

In a forest clearing.
A summer's evening long ago,
Turned to autumn
By the passing of time.

And memory fades too -
Grows dusty with age.
I had forgotten that day,
Until now.

Then the front door opened
And I heard you come in,
Shaking the rain from your coat
And calling my name,

So I returned the photograph
To the arms of the poet;
Secure, preserved.
Memories for another day.