Whence I look upon a digital frame,
A JPEG file, bearing familiar name.
Its purpose simple, to encapsulate,
Images that time cannot desecrate.

Within its form, pixels stand arrayed,
Colors mingled, light and shadow played.
A captured moment, in binary encased,
A glimpse of the world, in memory placed.

The sunset's blush, a lover's tender look,
JPEGs hold dear, as a cherished book.
A child's first step, or a cat's coy sprawl,
Preserved in digital, for us to recall.

Yet, each image holds a silent plea,
Against the grinding gears of entropy.
Compression takes its unwelcome toll,
Strips away detail, consumes it whole.

Loss in quality, the price we pay,
For JPEG's convenience, in its display.
Yet, in its simplicity, it charms us still,
Binds us in a shared digital will.

And so we choose, to capture and compress,
Trading perfect fidelity for less.
In every JPEG, a moment's ghost,
Echoing Robert Frost, in its humble boast.