I have a favourite
photo of you
celebrating your fifth birthday in nursery school,
peeping behind the teacher you adored,
your eyes pure pleasure, a grin mischievous
and out of character with your usual serious self,
ever introspective, inventive, questioning
Today I
photographed you
holding your newborn son,
huge hands, fine fingers, gentle on his head,
his hair full and every hue of blonde,
his eyes all pupils, onyx and beautiful,
staring curious at you
The photo shows
you, profile towards baby,
eyes sneaking sideways to look at the camera,
your smile a sunbeam
exactly like in that photo,
black and white and 33 years old
And on this third
day
past the summer Solstice,
the sun forgets to set