It's an old picture
graying in areas,
wrinkled from going through the wash
He's holding me as I sit on that cold stone wall
looking at the flowers, tracing patterns in the rock

It's an old memory
blurring in places
worn from use
he's holding me, telling me about the airforce
and the chef named cookie

It's a sad day
crying everywhere
painful as a knife
he's holding me as they fold up his flag
and hand it to my grandmother, wiping the tears from her eyes

It's a good dream
blank in someplaces
impossible out of reach
He's holding me, as I get ready for prom
saying I'm beautiful and not trusting my date

It's my only wish
clear as day
every detail shimmering into place
He's holding me telling me no one has ever been so loved
as I walk down the aisle in my Grandma's dress, my mothers dress