Family Photograph Album
Everything then was very small,
black and white, and dim
like that little face-sized screen
looking up at us
as the family gathered round
in our little room
keen to see what we knew
was there and here, both
then and now, together.
Now by myself a long time later
I return, to look up close
at these little windows
each framed in white, panes
into the past, drained
of colour, in which I see
those long gone, and me
a little bundle tightly wrapped
in white and shaded
by her raised hand.
I know for certain
from the careful writing
in special ink – white of course
upon the dark brown page
I am here and there, am named,
held secure by little triangles
across each corner. Seasons pass
as pages turn, the baby grows
and walks while parents age
Grannies come and go.
Dinah the dog who shared the pram
sits quietly through the years
until some photos start to loosen
and captions peter out, to leave
blank pages. Prints and screens
along with cars and houses –
all have grown much bigger
now, I don’t need to go up close
and peer through little windows.
I am enlarged and full
of colour and of understanding.
Richard Westcott, for many happy years a GP in north Devon, now has no excuse not to get down to writing. He blogs at richardwestcottspoetry.com and he’s been pleasantly surprised to win a few prizes. His pamphlet is published by Indigo Dreams
atriumpoetry.com 