Her Memories
Looking through pictures,
of her memories stored,
put up in boxes,
ragged, and worn.
Some people in the pictures,
I don't even know,
but all had a place,
in her life long ago.
Her long brown hair,
always had curls,
such a tiny frame,
on my mother as a girl.
Most black, and white,
and fading with age,
picture, after picture,
my mother saved.
Sky blue eyes,
and skin so pale,
laughter rings out,
in the story they tell.
Now I wish,
I had taken the time,
to write names on these treasures,
that are now mine.
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