Annie Johnson/ The Photograph

Annie Johnson

The Photograph

Oh, silent image speaking to me With your sparkling eyes, And your enigmatic smile From the depths of your ornate frame. You whisper to me through the glass And touch the shadows of my longing. How do I discern the thoughts Locked inside the frozen smile Of your long-lost identity? Handsome man beneath the glass Whose lips once planted kisses On the mouth of a sweetheart And whispered sweetness in her ears Meant to last beyond time’s claiming. Decades have come and gone And still outward is your gaze At a lover vanished from reality’s keeping. Gone is the past; forgotten the lover Taken by time’s merciless means To have one last look at your dear face; Who shed tears of joy to behold you; And kissed your smile beneath the glass. Would that I had known you In the prime of your smile; been The object of the light in your eyes And tasted the kisses frozen on your lips. Oh, handsome man beneath the glass, Where did the sweetness of time take you?