I fell in love with a picture of you
Strands of hair befall your brow
And your eyes look upon another
'Tis a mystery; the person whom your eyes are set upon;
Moderate is your skin, toned and yet so pale
But you stand different today, a new person, polished and refined
Your lips, though, sing but there is no sound
You are only a memory, pigments of color that formed your perfect being in that moment
O save me from my thoughts!
For to dwell upon a portrait of someone who should one day be a man
Is something to cherish until the old consumes such youthfulness...
I will remember thy eyes whence the day comes
In the time that it shall wrinkle with age
Thou art a memory to cherish
"This poem is for Skyler Matson"
