The front step.
The front step became a beacon in time.
We’re here together thinking.
No direction in mind.
The birds would sing softly.
The sunlight was kind.
If only the hands of time could rewind.
The gate newly painted.
What a smell a new hue.
Once upon a time I sat there with you.
The tomorrows we would talk of since are yesterdays.
The world a photo album, still crisp in many ways.
Today I watch your shapeless form pass by another’s grave.
I say a little prayer and thank God that photo’s saved.
Copyright G.P Williamson 2014