The Photo

The Photo

I have a photo
It never leaves, it never goes
Next to it is a rose

I’ve gone through many frames
I don’t have time for games
I don’t leave the house very much

I couldn’t bear the thought
Of my photo being wrought
But I can’t think of anything else

I have a photo
And it’s showing some wear
It’s something I can’t bear

I do all I can
To keep it in shape
But it’s out of my control