I found your photos on the floor,
you clearly didn't want them anymore.

Family dinners,
and lots smiles,
newborn babies,
heartfelt goodbyes.

I saw your Grandma grinning too,
ones of you crying,
there were quite a few.

Laid to rest on cold concrete,
met by tne passing of stranger's feet. 

Lines and wrinkles you once did know
Acting on an urge to let go.
I don't know why you'd throw them away,
it must have been miserable that day,

I've picked them up,
they're tucked away in a box,
climbed the ladder
up into the loft,
there the photos will wait for you,
but when you'll be ready I haven't a clue.

In truth I do not know your face,
we've never crossed paths before,
I've only really seen those eyes
looking up from the concrete floor.