Boxes of Time

 A treasure chest of cherished moments.

 A box full of wanton, wasted time,

 Those precious poems of time written into life,

 All altered now by age and changing rhyme.

.

 ink fades away as faces fade to ashen grey,

 so smiles and words must be enough for then

 Evoking images and memories of moments

lived and lost

 Made magic by the craft of camera lens.

 .

 The days we had, those days of celebration

 And those casual days cherished all the more

 throw away moments forever frozen in still frames

 and so made more precious for their simplicity adored.

 .

 The treasured and the timeless

 and other distant days now past recall

 encased in clear covers of cracking cellophane,

 To never hang in frames along the hall.

 .

 that girl, that boy all altered now

 by time and age that passed apace

 caught for a mere moment long ago

 that immortalised a sunny smiling face.

 .

 Memories of behaving for the camera

 Communions and those Conformation days

 suits, so fashionable in that fickle moment

 now relics of a forgotten fashion craze.

 .

 Emblazoned emblems of a time

 Brief and now long lost

 life lived and time now wasted

 all spent away then either right or wrong

.

 all returned now to their box and their cellophane.

 All the memories and the joy and pain.

 The ones lost to life, or merely lost to love.

 Safe now until I draw them out again

 .

 All stowed now and trapped forever

 In the frozen moments that appear

 my safety and my shield against  the loss of memory

 and the slow turning of the passing years

.

© Dave Kavanagh @ daithiocaomanaigh.com

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