The Magic Lantern

It was an old photo album

I took from off the shelf.

I brushed away the dust,

And saw a picture of myself.

 

Smiling up at me,

From beneath a wild mane,

A gap-toothed child,

Strolled down a country lane.

 

I trembled when it opened,

A nervous palsied hand,

Dreading that I might discover

No treasures in the sand.

 

Instead I found fortune–

Gems of mythic worth

Of times when there was laughter

Around the family hearth.

 

I saw images of mother,

Before she slept in dirt,

Tending to my father

And mending what was hurt.

 

I turned the pages slowly,

Watching a movie of my life,

Seeing the countless joys

And moments filled with strife.

 

When I reached the end,

I evidenced a theft,

For, happily, at the bottom,

I saw one space was left.