The Torn Photograph

The photograph lies in pieces, cracked and torn,

Like shattered memories, on a cold, hard floor.

Two faces smile, frozen in youthful grace,

But the joy in their eyes, has vanished without a trace.

Each shard reflects a fragment of time,

A stolen kiss, a whispered rhyme.

Sunlight on beaches, laughter in the breeze,

But the space between them, filled with empty seas.

Fingertips trace the edges, sharp and unkind,

Aching for a story, words left behind.

Can these pieces mend, the image reborn?

Or will love's tapestry, forever remain torn?

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