The computer cropped my banal photograph,

taken in a glorious moment of idleness,

the evening before.

 

Who is it who decides an image is meaningless?

just a set of pixels or spots for our eyes and God to make useful.

Certainly not I, as this image,

Hidden in a bigger image,

Now means something to me the following morning.

 

Dormant for weeks,

Unused by me, and probably others,

It remains a communication tool on a desk,

No longer used for that purpose,

Rather, now a decorative item.

Reminding us of times gone by.

 

When conversations caused us to talk and listen,

By its mere location.