Dust on the Frame

There’s dust on the Frame Of a girl I once knew, hair full of Sunlight, sky in her view. She’s smiling like she’s never heard of pain, But I can’t recall the last time I looked The same. She wore that red dress Like a song on the breeze, with hands full Of flowers and knees without knees. Now I sit here in silence, ashamed to admit, I don’t know the girl in that photograph yet. Where did she go? The one in the glass, Frozen in time While the years just pass. She don’t cry, she don’t fade, She don’t feel this ache. But I do, and I break every time I Wake. Time I wake. Time I wake. There’s a crack in the corner, And light slips through, like memory dancing then Gone out of view. I reach for that frame, then pull my hand Back, afraid I might lose the little I still Have. She was hope, she was fire, She was open and wide. Now I’m just a name and some silence inside. I wish I could meet her, tell her she’s Strong. But I waited too long, I waited too long. Where did she go? The one in the glass, Frozen in time While the years just pass. She don’t cry, she don’t fade, She don’t feel this ache. But I do, And I break every time I wake.