Outlines and highlights and blue and white,
Directing eyes to her depth and dimension,
Straight, strict, solid lines-
Couple and court a curvaceous entity,
Geometric grace in grand form, and a 5
Face of femininity framed with flowers,
So much to look at,
So much to see,
Too much to just let be-
A statement with no words, 10
A being with no choice,
Timeless poise with no voice-
Worthy of a frame,
But that is all,
Behind glass, on my wall. 15

This picture is old.
The paper is fragile like a page that has been worn thin.

The film is in black and white, like a fading memory.
And it’s a perfect square.

I’m related to the three people in it,
But have only met one.

A young man, later to be called Grandad, a word still unfamiliar and foreign..
His uniform is freshly ironed.

He will become a Staff Sergeant.
He will **** Nazis.

He will get married.
He will have four kids.

And none of them will know
What he has done.

Until he writes a book about it
Just a few years before he dies.

There is nothing to say except
I wish we had more time.

From deep and sagging doldrums of depression and despair
To a modicum of sanity through simplicity
From the exhilaration of sailing on high
To stories of love, pain, and emotions inarticulate
About anything and everything, no muse denied
For anyone with ears to accept and a heart to listen
About what it can inspire and help to illuminate
For anyone with a mind to see and eyes to know