Photographic Memory

Flowers in a vase,

On a small, nest of tables.

Petals and stems brush,

Frames of photos, telling fables.

Snapshots of colour, or sepia tone,

Rarely looked at anymore,

Passed by, unnoticed,

Lonely, near the front door.

Names of people in the frames,

Are mostly forgotten.

They don’t match memories of faces,

Like those houses and homes,

Lost in mysterious places.

We forgot who we are.

What is our history?

It’s all there in the photos,

They tell it all.

If only we stopped to look and see.