The Photograph

August 18, 2008
By Shaina Summerville, Rolling Meadows, IL

Your blue eyes gaze down on me
From up on my wall.
I remember this moment;
Sit back and relive.

I can feel your body
Pressed up against mine;
Your fingers closed firmly,
But gently
On my shoulder.

At your touch, I felt happy,
Yet my stomach clenched up.
This mixture of nerves
And of bliss
Was related to you.

This memory leads me
Down a path full of others,
I sigh and I daydream
And remember.

The first thing I saw
Was the blue of your eyes,
And the caring and mischief
Behind them.

Though smiles were rare,
The ones that you gave
Exposed your spirit for all to see.

You were constantly joking,
And making me smile,
You’d break through my shell
And I’d laugh.

I barely met you
Before you were gone
Off to college
Miles from me.

You were such a good friend
Compared to my others
And I looked up to you
As a guide.

You showed me attention
I truly deserved:
Attention I often lacked.

Many would mock me,
Or simply ignore me,
But you were right there
By my side.

As I gaze ar the picture
The tears start to well up
As my fellings leap
And then fall.

Though such a great friend,
You are no longer here:
Just a memory,
Not tangible,
Not there.

All that is left
Is a photograph,
Just a snapshot
Of the good times we had.

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