The Photograph

I found a photograph today. Its discovery agitated my emotions and I caught my breath. There you were - suspended - like some ancient fly held eternally in amber. Pose, expression, frozen - always. I found a photograph today. It awoke a memory long forgotten: It was a hot sultry day. We had travelled to our arrival and we argued, our tempers shortened by the blistering heat. My neat linen skirt had creased - like my mood - and you were rude. What did you say? I can hear the tone but the words are gone now and suddenly unimportant....washed away down the plughole of insignificance.... Gurgling then gone - lost in the annals of broken promises and accumulating hurt which precipitated our goodbye. I look into your petrified eyes - eyes that sparkled when I loved you yet metamorphosed into damming hate at times. Is your hand touching mine? I remember when it did - tenderly - I remember your fingers .... graceful somehow, artistic, creative, piano playing, painting, then hitting, hurting - same hands yet tender no more. Same hands, there in the photograph, no, not touching. I found a photograph today. Its discovery rankled my emotions and I held my breath - like I did when you frightened me with your unpredictability. Your ability to swing from light to dark in an instant. Yes, I found a photograph today but its gone now ....... Torn to tatters and thrown into the wind. Therapeutic in its destruction. Aiding and abetting reconstruction of a future without you. You're gone - washed away - gone - down the plughole of insignificance. Gone in the cleansing of reminiscence. Gone, gone, gone........ ....................... and forgotten.