Dusty Photos

Dusty Photos

Looking in the attic,

I saw a photo album.

I’m a history fanatic—

I had to look inside.

Peering at the past,

Inspecting memories.

But even these don’t last—

Nothing keeps forever.

And then, oh look, there’s Mother,

Just before she died.

Wearing the dress I gave her last summer,

The one with pansies and roses.

Dusty photos in dusty places,

Nobody’s viewed in years.

Invading people’s private spaces—

Oh well, no one will know.