I have an old daguerreotype

from a little antique store.

The faces are unknown to me

taken in days of yore.

A faded metal image

of a family numbering nine.

Their clothing tells a tale

of a long forgotten time.

Eyes starring straight ahead

expressions very intense.

The men are dapper, women demure

a picture of eloquence.

I wonder about their history

and of their heritage.

Where did they all come from?

What was their lineage?

In my old daguerreotype

poses many mysteries.

These ancient people exist no more

but for this relic photo freeze.

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Januarian's picture

You have captured one of the most exquisite aspects of history. Reminds me of the day, back in 1993, when I touched a stone that had been engraved by early Christians; to think that my hand had been where there hands had been . . . why it was almost overwhelmingly intense! Your poem describes that kind of experience, that sense of the aura of lives that surround a relic or an object from the past!


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