you will get a wild urge to clean your attic.
You will be coughing on dust,
opening boxes you don’t remember.
That’s when you will find this old photograph.
You will stand still.
You will barely breathe.
You will trace the sharpie scribbled
‘I love you’
with a arthritic weathered finger.
You will close your eyes,
And though it’s 50 years later,
you will want to go back.