Picture a thing that's yet to be

When the pictures fade to grey
and curl around the edges
will the crisp contours of memories
still burn as they slice
the taste of touches from fingertips?

Will two cubes
one slice and two fingers
still be the point
that holds the present
from falling into the noxious gifts of the future?

We rule the world
in the moment the shutter falls
but then the world stops
and frozen photo smiles and crowns
start to thaw at the corners
that unseen after image
feels like
when burning throats
can soothe the words
that hurt the most

but at the end of every story book night
written into the twinkling lullabies of stars
is a song that tells our lips
to speak no more of frightened words
that way maybe
our eyes might see the good
in what lays before us