1185

Groombridge Place

I'd scanned the photographs

Deleted the dull or blurred

And those already lost to memory

But even then the ones I thought I'd keep

Did not beg for comment -

Even the casual lines

My mother used to write upon her snaps -

The endless views of summer flower beds

And country houses visited by us.

It isn't that I can't;

It's that the urge, the urgency,

The fire is not there;

And all the beauties of this summer's day

Are lost when thought, unfocussed, goes astray.

Brian Hick July 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 14.6.24

 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