Stack of pictures

Where did they come from?
There weren't there when I left.
Almost like a pile of broken mirrors
I can see the face but still don't recognize the reflection

The biggest smile
The deep dimples
The long brown, hippie hair
with paisley dress to complete

I remember sitting cross-legged on the kitchen floor
begging to hear just one more
How you danced around to The Guess Who
and you telling me that you and dad would make-out
to the Shaft soundtrack... I was thoroughly disgusted
and had to return that one to its sleeve immediately
I asked you if you ever smoked grass
All you did was giggle.... followed by a 'don't do drugs'.

I sift through pieces
being careful not to tip it just so
don't want to see the reflection staring back at me
All focus is drawn to your smile,
soothing eyes
What I wouldn't give for those eyes to stare me down
for that smile to crack

I wonder if you understand
you seem to be the only one that might
Is it wrong to not care anymore
the little things don't seem to matter

Things are lost
the mirror is becoming translucent
turning to cloudy, gray glass as the memories dissipate