Picture Frame

A poem about my parents, before I was born. Inspired by the one and only Hannah Lowe, who visited our school.


1. Picture Frame


“I’m coming!”

He hears her call out, it’s her;

Only a door separates the two,

And the sparks of fervour mingled and danced

Between the cracks.

It’s him; just a twist of a doorknob away,

With trembling hands and impatient feet

Tapping away at the tiles beneath him.

Now he is standing beside her,

Her delicate dotted dress spilling over the seat

Ready to pose; a grandfather-to-be

Behind the camera.

The room smells of cream and beige;

Pastries, toffee, tea.

Sometimes I wonder how far I was

From that moment in time -

Stuck in a picture frame, behind glass.

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