Scrap Book

[vasyrak]

I bought an ounce of time
Tucked away to the tune of a cent
A nickle for a thought
A dime pays for a memory
But what if I stopped,
Ingeniously crafted fragments...
Cascaded, correlated, labeled
and sorted

In alphabetical order

I can see you've got the answers
At least for the minute,
Dear picture book
that you're standing in a photo
I can read your cursive,
scrawl across your paper
Date, place, moment,
Collected, labeled
and I can see how you stand
With two feet planted wide
Hands on your remorseless hips
And the tilts of your head just so
Matching the slant to your smile
And the glint to your eyes
Frozen in time

I can see you left the glass three quarters empty
Like some mocking pessimist
But I think you're self defeating, on purpose
I think you're inflating your own ego
And holding onto that needle,
just waiting for the pop
Maybe waiting to get your piece
Your slice of the dream
Your own crumbs, from the pie

I can see your picture books
Your photos, and your memories
Blacks and whites, on glossy
Color of fall's leaves
Memories
Memories
Memories

Just don't pack them away, yellowed and curled
So delicately at the corners
Just keep them out, for everyone to see