Gold Picture Frame
The sun spills through the window’s pane
And settles upon a cherry wood cane.
And on that cane an old woman leans
As she stares out the window at trees of green.
Her mind drifts back to much younger days when
Her hair was blond from a summer's sun rays
She'd skip and sing as little girls do
When the days were long and skies were blue.
She smiles for a moment in spite of herself
and blows a kiss to the garden elf.
With a turn she shuffles toward her chair
Her days are spent most often there.
On a small wooden table by where she sits
Are cards and letters, old newspaper clips.
There’s a photo there too, young couple in love
He, in a dark suit, she, a white gown and gloves.
Her memory fades as dreams do at dawn
So few of are left, even fewer are strong.
Often she loses time and place,
in the mirror she doesn't always know the face.
It puzzles her now as she holds that gold frame
Who can they be, what is his name?
He looks like groom, and the young woman a bride
How handsome he is she thinks misty-eyed.
‘Hello my love’, a gentle kiss to her cheek.
She looks up from the photo but does not speak.
‘Our special day” he smiles and whispers to her
“The day that we wed, oh how happy we were”.
She takes a moment to let his words sink in
Another glance at the photo, the memory begins.
An evening in summer, the church was white
The violins played underneath star light.
“We married” she says and touches his face.
“We did” he replies, “You wore satin and lace.”
“We danced and we danced” has he takes her hand.
“Come dance with me now”, and helps her to stand.
He hums an odd tune no one else would know
Because he wrote it for her many years ago.
In each other’s arms they slowly sway
And in her mind she relives that day.
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