Tracing History I look at the photograph of me and you and trace the history we have made I wish I knew where we went wrong those smiles of ours...how did they fade? I trace your eyes and wonder if they hold any sparkle for me I trace your arms and remember when I fit right into them, snuggily. I trace your fingers lightly and I can almost feel them on my brow almost feel them entwined with mine reality strikes, it's only air now. As I sit here and trace us, I wonder if you love me still but tracing history does no good and looking at photographs never will make anything any better seen or help find the answers to fill the gaps left in the area between the peak and the bottom of the hill. (when did we start going downhill?)