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Faded photographs, covered now with lines and creases,
Tickets torn in half, memories in bits and pieces…
Traces of love, long ago, that didn’t work out right..
Traces of love.

 

 

 

 

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Ribbons from her hair, souvenirs of days together.
The ring she used to wear, pages from an old love letter.
Traces of love, long ago, that didn’t work out right,
Traces of love….with me, tonight.

 

 

 

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I close my eyes…and say a prayer,
That in her heart she’ll find,
A trace of love still there…somewhere.

 

 

 

 

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Traces of hope…in the night,that she’ll come back and dry,
These, traces of tears, from my eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

scn0002I went to Kimberly Ann’s in Old Towne Petersburg and found these photographs. It amazes me that family members let old photos get out of the family.  It boggles my mind that a family member can let memories go.  All of these photos had the same handwriting on the back and the names of the people in the shots, so it cannot be a case of not knowing who they were. 

Perhaps they were left in a box no one checked before they sent them away.  

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