Every single day, I look at my darling mum’s photos

for months, these images were my refuge, my lifeline

each frame captured the brilliance that was her life

I did not just see her, I felt her, and her vibrance

her cheerful smile was not frozen, it bloomed

her beautiful eyes were not still, but sparkled

these pictures kept me afloat in the storm of grief

When I traced the curve of her cheek in the photos

I swore I could hear her voice, warm and teasing

as though she had just walked out of the room

might return any second, and for a moment

I almost convinced myself that she is still here

yet, the longer I stare, the more the illusion cracks

with every glance, there is also an aching pain

As time passed, the stillness in the frames screams

her radiance is trapped in a moment that will

never change, her smile, once full of life, unmoving

these photos, once my greatest solace, began to

contrast painfully with the devastating truth

the pictures are stunning, yet unbearably cruel

offering both love and loss in the same breath

Her photos, no matter how vivid, no matter

how damn hard I beg, time would not rewind

her future, our future, is a story cut short abruptly

the pictures are just silent echoes of a life that

refuses to keep playing, still, I hold onto those images

though it hurts so damn much, maybe, in some way

that is enough to help me survive the impossible pain