Behind the glass and sepia stain,
Hanging with a nail, is a heart,
Sheltered inside the splinters of frame.
Amongst the props and satin draping,
Stand the tests of time, through deserts and
Droughts, cut through fire and searing snow,
Familiar figures held in matte,
It is love that is captured in stills.
The one that believed the unspoken,
One that rescued before the collapse,
And the last which contained all strength.
Between the ink and the light, moments
That lay, as many as the ancient
Star rays, though may not shine in the day,
But they alas, there under the quiet,
Or within the clouds, a portrait of
A reflected treasure, part of all.