X. Snapshot   We stood upon the classroom building stairs. Your mother snapped the picture, ten Years late. Symbols make themselves in affairs Of the heart: The film did not turn out. Then It was too late to pose again; too late Not only for the distance, but because fate Chose not to allow three times the moment We had lost; time took us unawares To a new country, to a place called present, Where we chose not to love, where hurtful stares Replaced the loving smile. And now, afraid to move, We stand in silence, anxious our resolve to prove, Wary as we skirt the other's heart, above All trying not to part in anger but with love.