I cannot picture how you smiled,
When I was just a little child.
The details blur around the edge,
A broken, unfulfilled pledge.
I only have this photograph,
To try and reconstruct your laugh.
The cruelest trick that time can play,
Is stealing pieces every day.
Hanna writes poignant, deeply reflective poetry about the rapid passage of time and the fragility of human memory. She uses the imagery of changing seasons and fading photographs to explore how we hold onto the...
The golden leaves fall in the park,Before the early creeping dark.The monuments are turning cold,As all the passing...
The silver prints are turning gray,The faces slowly fade away.A summer day, a beach, a smile,Captured for a...