Strangers in old photographs. Who are they? What are their stories? Where are they now? Why do they evoke such feelings?

Misplaced Photographs

A faded yellowed envelope
under a nightstand drawer I found,
where misplaced it lay undisturbed
for many long and lovely years.

Inside were photographs:
a little girl of five or six;
a wedding reception;
couples old and young.

All were strangers to me
except a woman, widowed now
whose face I recognized as one who
had sold us, months ago, some bedroom furniture.

She was, in several photographs, standing
next to a man; probably her husband then.
Together they knew and loved, I thought,
every person in every aged picture.

These artifacts of perished days
I held within my hands, as a feeling
like sadness, bittersweet and soft,
swept through my heart...
like withered leaves in an autumn wind.

Next poem: Pit Stop

Author: Jerry Dan Deutschendorf
from: Red Earth Whisperings
Part III: Family and Friends