Spilling the Picture Boxes

The boxes get dumped out all over the street.
The cardboard is wet and disappears under hurrying feet.
So many memories covered in water.
I tried to grab the albums before you dropped them.
But now the photographs are wet in the puddles.
And the mud will only smudge when you try to clean them.
Such a long trip though all that has passed,
only to realize that photographs do not last;
I would be more disappointed if it were the real thing on the ground.
But the good times we had can’t be lost once they are found.
So just leave them, grab what you must.
I’d be lying if I said I didn't have a memory that I could trust.
Not with you, not with you.
The boxes never really will be empty.