I've hung the family photos in the hall

And started to sort out those that remain;

A jumbled stack, unposed and often blurred,

The sort that get discarded, yet retain

A sense of life being lived, one which insists

On shooting past the confines of the frame

To get on with business of the day

-Like moths escaping from a candle flame.

Their stubborn wildness, cut off heads and feet,

Silent laughter, poked out tongues, recalim

A life the image tries to kill, and stirs

A joy the family set-piece can't retain.

            Momento mori photographs may seem

            But some escape to fill the gaps between.

Brian Hick

©copyright Sally Hick 22.4.22