Album-ed Away

In this old age,
shopworn photos of decades past,
curiosities provoking an occasional smile
[Being, but no pressing Purpose]
and so, one gets album-ed away.

Shudder away the cover-dust,
remains of sparkle and spring forever spent.
Pages yellowed, edges crumbled...
disregard and negligence
become a looming death.

Within this abandoned cache
of fading memories, the stillness stifles,
dryness parches our careless, captured souls.

This album's abandoned warehouse
reverberates the hollowness of dust and gray and loss...
one walks across cluttered floors carefully---
almost on tiptoes.

So, we live on...
barely noticed and  increasingly alone,
hoping to make each last look
worth the halted time it took.