The Sun-Bleached Photograph

Cracked edges, a yellowed hue, a story trapped in time,

Sun-bleached faces smiling, on this fragile, fading rhyme.

Two figures standing close, beneath a summer sky,

Love's youthful promise, reflected in each eager eye.

But the laughter etched in lines, now seems a distant dream,

Replaced by shadows, where a love once did beam.

The empty space beside them, speaks volumes untold,

A reminder of loss, etched in the photograph's cold.

Will new stories be captured, in frames yet to unfold?

Can memories be cherished, even when they grow old?

Or will the photograph remain, a relic of what used to be,

A sun-bleached memory, whispering of love's fragility?

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