Photos hang upon the wall,
Or stand upon the mantelpiece.
Treasures of tremendous worth,
These sweet, rose-colored memories.

Daddy in his overalls
Holding me, when just a child.
Mama with her apron on,
Her face alight with love and smiles.

Gramma in her old, blue dress,
Her face framed by a bonnet.
The photo of that old, gray mule
With Grampa perched upon it.

Brother looking proud and strong
In his Army uniform.
Sister in the rocking chair
Looking down at her firstborn.

Captured moments of a past
That shaped and molded me.
Memories of arms and hearts
That all enfolded me.

Images turn soft and blurred
As teardrops fill my eyes.
As I gaze through blinking eyes
My memories come alive.

My world is filled with kitchen smells,
The scent of pies, and Gramma’s hair.
Sounds of laughter, children playing,
Mama’s songs, and Grampa’s prayers.

They’re with me eternally,
Their presence can’t depart.
Their living, moving memories
Are framed here in my heart.

© Billy W.George 2003