Picture perfect, that’s what they say
But upon reflection, nothing ever seems the same.
A smile here, some windswept hair,
Yet the moment isn’t really there.
I don’t know why the past turns out so blurry,
Why everything seems rushed, in a hurry.
It’s one quick second, a laugh stuck in midair,
Not really capturing the whole affair.
No, it’s not picture-perfect, it’s a grasp at times
An effort to hold onto what used to be mine.
See, the thing is, time never stays in one place,
So I follow it around with a camera
Hoping to catch just a glimpse of its face.
Photo Credits: Dough Davis