Below is a different picture of Mother.
A Very Old Photograph
Shy with the camera,
she stands in her white sailor dress
one arm behind her back.
Her dark eyes, so much like mine,
glance right. Her lips shyly smile.
I wish I had known her then.
We'd have been friends,
going to pound suppers, singing
alto in the church choir.
She was loved as I was loved,
sheltered by Mama, strengthened
by her Papa's expectations.
How could she have imagined ageing?
Certainly not at fourteen
and looking so lovely.
She never thought she'd grow old,
lose her memory, and depend on me,
her daughter, to care for her.