The Photograph

The Photograph

 

A clock radio

Blinks through life;

Internal workings

Ticking, flashing.

 

Beside it stands

A silver frame

Invisible and perfect;

A paper image inside.

 

The image shows a child

On paper, in the frame.

Sitting, smiling, laughing,

At her entire small world.

 

And the image never tires,

Under the glass,

Next to the working clock.

It sits, and smiles and laughs.

 

And, after a time,

The pulse of the clock radio

Dulls and fades

Its voice bitter and strained.

 

And though too the paper fades,

The image stays the same.

The young child, sun-worn and old,

Sits, and smiles and laughs.

 

 

Jeremy Barron

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