THE OLD MAN AND HIS MEMORIES

Libby Taylor

Pictures hanging on the wall smile at me

Their tone grey and dark

Yet when I look at them, they light up the room with colour.

I look at myself back then; glossy hair, smooth skin

Surrounded by the people I loved

All gone now.

I catch a glimpse of an old man in the reflection of the pictures

He is now all I can focus on

His aged face covering a time of youth.

See, back then all I dreamt of was the future

And before I knew it I was old and alone

Dreaming of the past.