by Rina Noelle Sabban Opinion

I used to say I’d visit.
Two years, four years,
Six years gone by
Like the muted snap of a shutter
I hardly felt them pass.

In each of your photographs,
I see through your eyes–
Blue wings spread,
a resting tiger butterfly,
The transient beauty of
Cherry blossom petals shining
pale pink
against pitch-black night sky.

I used to take pictures
In my head,
But now I know better.
Human memory lies;
Evidence does not.

No more will I take
Things for granted,
Nor smile and make
Empty promises.
Life is too short,
Existence too fragile.

Every photo
Records time.
After eight years of distance,
Let me capture
A photo of
You.