Your polaroids next to my polaroids

Yours taken with your ‘new’ polaroid camera (1960)

Mine taken with my friend’s ‘new’ polaroid camera (2017)

Yours, yellowed, colors fading,

Mine, stark white with bold colors.

In yours, you and your husband outside your new home

In mine, I hold a candle

You, your daughter, my grandma, at the circus

Me, my friend’s dog in the snow

Your papery-plastic album is filled with old polaroids

My sleek silver phone snaps photos with ‘retro’ polaroid filters

Your hands shake as you warn me of their fragility

My hands are strong as I roll my eyes

My eyes flit over pages, barely see what I am looking at

Your eyes staring longingly at my polaroids for the days that used to be