Black and white photo
The paper your photo is printed on is thin,
flimsy, corner to corner,
and your photo is grainy, cold –
you look sad.
Is it the grey wash of ink around your eyes
or the way your hair looks old in black and white,
or how the charcoal colours make those eyebrows full and thick?
I couldn’t say
but here, up close, I don’t recognise you.
I’ve never seen the coat, noir against your skin,
nor the scarf woven about your neck;
the background is so plain, I don’t know where you were,
Now you’re in the ground
and something tells me you’re smiling
after all these years;
not grey and cold
but warm, red, vibrant,
I miss you;
the photo is not you,
but as I throw the mud upon the wooden top
my eyes mist at the picture in my hands;
now I can see you, I can feel you close as anything,
and I know you’re smiling.
Down there you’re in colour
and we’re expected to remember you in black and white;
today you’re all in colour
and I love you.