Old Polaroid

Found it in a shoebox by the door Your kitchen, August, nineteen ninety-four The colours bleeding orange at the seam We looked so easy in that tangerine Old polaroid Still developing after all these years I hold it to the light and let it breathe Not trying to go back Just letting it be sweet Your mother's garden, sprinkler on the lawn That Sunday feeling when the week was gone We didn't know that we were making gold We just stood there getting overexposed Old polaroid Still developing after all these years I hold it to the light and let it breathe Not trying to go back Just letting it be sweet Memories don't sharpen They just warm Like a lamp left on In an empty room