Old Family Pictures

by Laurie D. Smith

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    The forgotten box I found them in

    Smells of dust and “olden times.”

    The styles they wore are strange.

    But I handle each photo carefully,

    Touching only the edges,

    Looking slowly

    At each piece of the past.

    The faces seem to be so still,

    Gazing steadily through the photo finish.

    But I feel as though it’s one-way glass

    As I try to reach beyond the picture

    And penetrate the years.

    I silently wonder,

    Are we really so far apart?

    And the faces smile,

    Content at my wondering.