i am a photograph
black and white, with cracks running down the center
dappled sunlight streaming down through leaves that ought to be
some brilliant shade of forest green
i am off to the side by the rusted swingset
happy, smiling;
you think you see me
i am a photograph.
faded with time
coffee colored halo encircling my head
people passing me by
walking, driving;
cars a blur, so much movement
i am a photograph.
faded with time
folded, forgotten;
you see what you want to see
puffy white clouds smeared in the distance
i am the illusion
the illusion does not go deep enough
my grey-blue eyes are out of focus
you cannot see the crystalline tears
i am a photograph.
broken, bandaged;
held together by clear, thick tape
frayed at the edges
a reproduction of a life better lived
i am not real
crinkled and torn in your back pocket
empty swings tossed by the breeze
children now grown
their crooked smiles hide the pain of broken promises
i am a photograph
black and white with cracks running down the center
dying sunlight caressing crumpled grey-brown leaves
fallen, like so many fragile realities
don't look too closely
i might fade away
i am a photograph.