Adam Burrows


i’m a snapshot, a little girl, eyes like the summer sky
staring at my father who’s making funny faces, trying to make me smile
i’m too young to remember, but it’s a saturday at the park
a picnic basket and blanket, we stay all day ’til it gets dark
i end up in a jcpenney catalogue, even on a few billboards
it could be a hundred other little girls, i guess it was me they were looking for

i’m a snapshot, a teenage boy, before i go off to war
taking a drag off a lucky strike, wearing a crisp, clean uniform
ready and raring to go, proud of my decision, everything is in black and white
if you told me i won’t be coming back home i’d say it was a lie
i’m hanging on a wall in a memorial hall, my name and rank engraved
the school kids come to visit and to study a mess that was made

i’m a snapshot, an old man, most men my age are retired
i’m not the type to lay down easy, i guess it’s just the way that i’m wired
i’m in a field hunched over the harvest, eyes squinty from sweat and sunscreen
the photographer tells me “act natural.”  i’m not exactly sure what that means

i get sold for a pretty penny and put on a shelf behind an office chair
someday i’ll end up in a yard sale and i’ll feel more comfortable there

i’m a snapshot, someone at their best or maybe their worst
a flicker of a life that walks a fine line between happiness and hurt
i’ll go on forever, one way or another i’ll be somewhere for your to see
if you pay close attention you might even see a piece of yourself in me