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Opa's Camera MAG
Black and white
A rustic yellow
A faded green
But never full color
You hang on the wall
Your belly empty
nevermore will you have
A feast of memories
You won’t see me graduate
You won’t see their 50th anniversary
You won’t see her first day of teaching
You’ll just stay on the wall
In your leather tomb
But you shouldn’t feel bad
For we all are like you
We become outdated
Our bellies become empty
We can no longer hold memories
And we are forever entombed in a coffin
Designed just for us.
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