Photo

A photo means more,
Even without a photo frame.
It's still so vivid what I saw,
The tiny speckled people standing on the wall.
But, why are they staying there?
They just don't move at all
Unlike the family, I think I know.
At least one is dying to make a call.
They will stay in my pocket forever,
I will watch them grow
Without changing at all.
This crumpled paper of people I love so
And maybe when you go to sleep
It will all be good.
Life is good at being kind
Or maybe a hole will be where they have once stood?
Sorrows back, laughing gone
Not everything is fine.
Remember to think of the photo you've got
And they'll be comfy where their lyin’.