Polaroid

He took a Polaroid of her in midair,
jumping,
with the hopes that she would stay that way;
Suspended and unmoving,
legs splayed and hair frayed,
the perfection of happiness.

His hope was that if anything did change,
the picture could be withdrawn
from its place in the album,
to be imbibed, the memory removed,
repeated as a timeless moment in history,
a simple, fond feeling to recall.

And like ice melting into water,
his hope turned to fear,
thin and lukewarm;
But at room temperature
ice and hope can’t stay frozen forever.

Sitting in his room, afraid for her to age,
or melt,
he watched the picture stay the same,
refusing to play life’s game
of getting older.

Before long, his grandfather noticed
his grandson
withdrawn,
picture in hand, drinking the memory
of her in midair,
unaging, unchanging.

Approaching, he sat by his grandson’s side,
gathered his thoughts to start
changing them to words,
formulations to change feelings,
linguistics to hit the heart,
or at least aim for it.

“Boy, I know your fear,
the way you desire
to keep her in the Polaroid
and avoid a possible fire.

But a picture can’t compare
with the beauty of time,
changing rain to snow,
and snow to ice,

Maybe she’ll change,
maybe she’ll hurt you,
maybe she’ll rearrange,
her life will gain someone new

But love doesn’t leave
with a change in the weather.
Either you can love her right now,
and that is all,
or you can love her forever.

Take the chance, don’t run from time,
for nothing is as beautiful
as together mistaking
as together being lazy,
as together fighting,
as together aging.

For love is like wine,
it ferments, gains flavor,
the longer you brew it,
the better it is to savor.

And when you’re old,
if you’re still together,
you can pull out that there Polaroid,
dust it off with a feather,
realize that your love of her then
can’t compare to your love of her later

So boy,
either love her right now,
or love her forever.”

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