Poezja

I looked at myself

in an old photo as if

looking into a mirror.



It is strange.

Have I faded so much

with the passing of years?

That girl had

brown hair

and red lips

waiting to be kissed.

I am grey and white

and have no sparks

of hope in my eyes.

All of the people

She loved were alive.

Images and time standing still

on photos, just like me.

She and I separated by life