Each Moment a Snapshot
(from Within My Illusions)
Light and shadow filter
through the reflections of my memory,
trying to recapture the details
of a little girl’s laugh
from the way she reaches
with outstretched arms
to offer a handful of seashells,
zooming in on a sun-weathered table,
weary lines on the edges
of eyes that long to tell
a story.
If I could still
this life,
distill it down
to one frame,
would I be able to capture
the entirety of my existence?
Slowing down to inhale,
water warms on my wrists and hands,
soap accumulates,
caressing the insides of the crystal vase,
a gift, chipped on one side
of its hexagonal mouth.
My finger lingers there.
I held onto it despite
its imperfection.
Each moment a snapshot,
holding onto time,
even as it blurs around the edges,
even as the forms begin to fade.