By Mandy

I look at some pictures, the prints on a page,
Some glossy and new, some yellowed with age.
On some you look happy, a few you look sad,
But Im happy to know that on most you looked glad.
They hold memories stuck in that present.
Sometimes I wonder what they must have meant.

I never thought you would become a picture,
I knew it must be but I never was sure.
Where your touch was is only cold paper.
I wish things are the way they were.
You didnt want to leave I know,
But when death calls you have to go.

It still hurts to think of you,
But its all that I can do.
I will never let myself forget,
And I do not have a single regret.
Your picture, your memory, is inside my heart,
And though it sometimes falls apart,

Ill sew it shut with silver thread,
For in my heart you are not dead.
I treasure the gifts you chose to give,
For in my heart youll always live,
And when I become a picture too,
Then I will go to be with you.

1-1-1999