The Photo

It was at the bottom of the box.

And yet it felt as if it was placed there, not left.

A hidden memory, waiting to become a new memory.

It is a treasure more valuable than gold.

It is faded, you can barely make out a person.

Who were they? What did they hope to share?

Photos, a period of time frozen.

No words are necessary.

The meaning is in the eye of the beholder, which is the beauty.

Whoever they were, they are now important.

They are now the photo.


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