Remembering

You told me of your dreams, always in black and white:
Distant, with faded outlines, finally turning to shadows
Which left you in tears.
As you spoke, you held this framed past, an eternity
In black and white, yet fading - perhaps.

Dream on - as we trace together, with blunted fingers,
The dusty contours of this photograph,
Remembering, fingerprint by fingerprint

The time when we opened pot after pot of paint,
Dabbed our hands in, and marked, like over-aged children, our
Happiness - handprint by handprint - on the wall.

We smiled and agreed that all the pains of life
Were worth it, for that little moment of bliss:
That eternity, filled with colour - perhaps.

Our fingers touch; we look up; we smile.
It's perhaps the smile like that of old friends
With memories of each other framed and treasured,
Yet fading.

Or perchance, it's the smile when
Old friends finally meet in this colour-filled, eternal present.