Looking at old photographs of people
Seeing the expressions on their faces
How each person looks at me looking at them
Looking as if they are alive today.
Seeing their clothes and hair styles
Setting them in another time and place
That does not exist except as a memory
My imagination goes back there.
No doubt my dress and the things about me
Will look strange to some person in the future
Though today it mostly conforms to the norm.
My imagination goes ahead there.
Here now where I am
The past and future speak to me
And I listen closely as if I could hear their stories
Told by the silent people of these photographs
