We’re leaving
No pictures behind
But the liminal space
In our memories
With their negatives
Lost among pages
Where colorful days
Remain scrapped

As a privilege
Housing what stays
After moments pass
Even faster
Than these faded stills
Growing yellow
From time which dulls
Vivid scenes

And eliminates
Things often missed
Like minutiae gazed
Over decades
Turning background noise
Truly silent
Just to somehow speak
Yet again

Through that image
Caught between lives
Soon worlds apart
After aging
But becoming real
For mere seconds
Looking back on love
As it was

Having holidays home
Around stars
Over Christmas trees
Always glowing
Seeing kitchens filled
During evenings
Warmly tinted
When family arrived

Seeming bleak
Now polluted by light
Feeling far too harsh
Since recalling
How tomorrow’s pain
Barely warrants
Such photographs
Facing each sun.

• J. Pigno