Just Two Photographs

I took just two photographs of you,
thought when you'd gone
looking at them would be like
trying to track your warmth
from a frost glossy print;
that you would never rest,
reawoken every time I took them out:
is that what they mean,
who say photographs trap the soul?

For my want sleeps only in dreams
where you come back:
then I relive
how you made me feel,
the incandescant happiness of knowing
you, sweet as violets in my mind:

I could hold a camera,
but
the immensity of the joy I caught
in your warm look
could not be encompassed by a cold glass lens

Now life's flat as film
on the other side
of the the black hole
as the shutter is closed:
so slowly time passes -
it's a long exposure without your light,
waiting till the shutter opens with a click
and I'll see again
in the brightness of your eyes