The Kodaks of Memory Fade
The Kodaks of memory fade
The Kodaks of memory fade until all that remain
Are the sparkle of your eyes and the arabesques
Of your lips; haunting ghosts in muted hues, limp
Postcards discovered in a rummage through the
Attic of my mind.
I pause, staring in my mind’s eye at the
Curling cards, edges worn and torn from my
Grasping ruminations; an empty nausea grips me,
Tight chest reminding me of my heartache, and
Incomprehension of your rejection.
Images in the mind, albums of memories, fragments
Of life once cinema verite; now all coalesced
Into a frozen tableau of moments, each one
Eastman coloured only in dreams, the conscious mind
Seeing but sombre greys.
Gathered up, they fit neatly into a handy box,
That I can tape closed and hide in some dusty corner,
Until such time as I pass my memories in review;
Then again you will look out at me and smile,
With twinkling eyes.
Copyright © Edward Clapham | Year Posted 2016
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