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An album, simply titled
“old family snapshots”
beckoned to me.
Long ago tucked away to languish
in a big red box marked
“TO DO” – someday.
And there a faded photo,
black pointed corners holding it
secure til’ “someday” comes,
urges me to remember
for “someday” is today.
That summer remains in my memory,
a sharper picture image than
the one clasped in my hand.
I’ve been on a long journey
since this snippet of paper and print
captured the likeness of a family
on a rare holiday together.
A mother of five -
but where the father by her side?
Or are these two young men
standing tall in his stead?
I know the answer well
as the three young girls, especially
the little girl on the left.
It was a beautiful weekend -
not a cloud in the sky to cloud
their precious time together.
No summer thunder roll or lightning flash
No warning signal to
Gather ye flowers while ye may.
So they did – the picture tells us so.
All are gone now but
the little girl on the left.
Gone, the tall fair haired men -
parents so young -
mother and father to three little girls
long before the age to have
any of their own;
Two sisters, the youngest and eldest
found their way home
once again with those brother-parents.
The last of the family pictures?
or one more for me to complete?
The mother with two girls now grown,
The fair-haired father
tall between the two tall sons –
waiting together –
waiting
for the little girl on the left
to join them.
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