memories are photographs of the heart
In all probability you don't recall,
the life you lived when you were small,
like a photo album full of laughter,
the good out weighs the bad, which came after.
Memories are photographs of the heart,
you spend a lifetime browsing, from now to the start,
each moment captured frozen in time,
another paragraph to create, this sombre rhyme.
Memories of joy birthdays an' all,
in this ocean of life, seem very small,
my album reflects the life I've had,
pictures of joy, shrouded by the sad.
I can only reflect on passion and pain,
to me light and dark appear the same,
tears of laughter mixed with sorrow,
takes today what tomorrow can borrow.
So in this album of the soul,
pages are blank that should be whole,
tied to the past of misery,
joy is a prisoner who wants to break free.