Even if that is the extent of us,
where the ink runs off the edge
of that little paper world,
I’ll always have that photo,
and that will always be proof that even just once,
all was as it should have been.
All was perfect,
and there was our moment
and it was indeed real, once upon a time, in the sweet past.
There we were, in love.
It was our time, right now, long ago.
That moment will always be there back in time;
we still stand there in that dimension, untouched by this one.
And it stays there,
where we were, paused in time
in this photo.
And that is mine. All and only mine.