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.