Old Family Pictures

by Laurie D. Smith

The forgotten box I found them in

Smells of dust and “olden times.”

The styles they wore are strange.

But I handle each photo carefully,

Touching only the edges,

Looking slowly

At each piece of the past.

The faces seem to be so still,

Gazing steadily through the photo finish.

But I feel as though it’s one-way glass

As I try to reach beyond the picture

And penetrate the years.

I silently wonder,

Are we really so far apart?

And the faces smile,

Content at my wondering.