Pictures

Diamonds are preciousand, 
in no time, theived

Pearls affixed with love

sew stronger the green-eyed monster inside
Late night dinners and calls
fall between the cracks overnight
But pictures eternally stay adored.
Pictures are memories. 

Pictures hung on the wall
reminding one of the time
he was born
and held in the hands of his blissful mother,
tickled by unknown faces
loved by all
oh! that sweet face
on the wall
with those little lips
parted and hands clutching ma's pointer with hope. 

Pictures behind the frame
transporting one to the time
he had his first trip to Europe,
or the awkward family photo
on the beach sipping coconut water
soaking the sun and rating schoolgirls.
Pictures of the first date,
first school dance,
first haircut,
first band photo.
Pictures make memories.
Memories that can be taken along
to the grave
that can sleep on your chest
just as you sleep infinitely
under the deep layers
the picture will remain till
you are reduced to
a mere bag of bones,

even that will be a memory

slid in a daughter's billfold.