In the Photographs I Never Saw

A poem for Edith

In the photographs I never saw

You smile at the farm gate and wear your hair in curls.

The sky that’s grey for me is not for you.

The friends laughing around the table at your son’s wedding live

Without effort or fear of what comes next.

In the photographs I never saw

You hold your grandson

Before he can run or fight or lie.

In the kitchen doorway

You stand beside a holly felled

Its berries black, its leaves pressed against the ground

Like your cheek against the bed.

And you marvel

Not knowing that you will forget this tree

Which kept your days in shade.