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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Sorting through old pictures kept in weathered leather albums I am sorting through the questions, that are tethered in my head If time is truly relative, (as often we have heard)... then,...what defines this moment? I am living here, while missing them....but is it me that's really dead? Am I here? Am I there? Is it now? Is it then? Am I living in the future, or has tomorrow come and gone? All the familiar faces, in sepia faded poses, are here within my hand I sense the comfort of their arms. Their voices, soft and lingering... How can that be, if they are gone......yet still a part of me? Perhaps they still live and it is me, who is fading, all along?... Wind at the window, and an old ticking clock, keeping me counting, pondering thoughts While the questions unanswered circle the room... I re-memorize the faces, ....each page is a story, the story keeps weaving, .....in memory's loom My mother, alive, long brown braids, as a child... Younger than I ever knew her to be... My father, so strong, ...before he was frail... The faces before me, did they follow my trail? Or did they come first, ...with stories to tell? Yes, here is my grandmother, who cradled me well..... Where did she go? She lives in me still... Or is she still here, looking down from above while I still feel the love, as I look down at her now? What is time, what is death, where am I in the scheme of things? Can you help me unlock the spell... Tell me, ....tell me...... Do we circle around the wheel of life, of death, of time.... In sepia, faded yellow and brown?
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