poppy, 2010The photograph is from
France,
but it doesn't matter.
It is mine. Clearly,
although from several
decades before.
My blades and clover.
I knew them
well. I can't imagine they have
changed.
Faces move closer to the ground,
when they are young.
And little is forgotten.
I can feel myself posing,
grudgingly, in front of our roses,
before my mother's camera.
My arms bare. My hair in a
pixie.
Her hope to coax a smile is before
me. I can touch it.
it made me think of me and my pixie cut...and frowning at the camera.
ReplyDeletebeautifully written
Really? I love that. Thanks for letting me know.
ReplyDeletei LOVE this phrase, "Her hope to coax a smile is before
ReplyDeleteme. I can touch it." so lovely...
Katrina, Thank you. It was. I could. I had seen a French photograph, a tight close-up of a lawn. The blades of grass and clover looked identical to the grass that had been in my childhood backyard. It brought back a flood of memories.
ReplyDeleteyou never know what small unexpected thing will spark a rush of memory, one of life's great joys.
ReplyDeletei enjoy your writing and willingness to share.
nancy, Thank you. (smile)
ReplyDelete