Tattered from age,

edges browned

Chocolate or blood?

A single oily imprint of my finger remains,

35 years have gone by;

And I hold it in my hand

once white edges, shiny smooth, square

A day in this life, a regular day now-special

I hold my dog, Hildegaard in one arm

I read from my second grade work book in the other

My long pale blue jeans a yellow shirt, long, long hair

the pictures tells…..it is set in the seventies,

As is as apparent by the chair I sit on……

Without this single photograph,

This day may have been forgotten

Like the others.