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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