A PHOTOGRAPH
the cardboard show me how it was When the two girl cousin went paddling Each one holding one of my mother hand And she the big girl- some twelve year or so. All three stood still to smile through their hair at the uncle with the camera. A sweet face, My mother that was before i was born. And the sea which appears to have changed less, Washed their terrible transient feet. Some twenty - thirty - years latter She'd laugh at the snapshot "see betty And dolly," she'd say, "and look how they Dressed us for the beach." the sea holiday Was her past, mine is her laughter. Both wry With the laboured ease of loss. Now she'd been dead nearly as many years As that girl lived. And of this circumstance Ther is noting to say at all. Its silence silence
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