GOING BACK INTO THE LIGHT

Every year your memory
fading

'til you are nothing
more than

a figment of my imagination
than the man

you were
to me.

Photographs of you
in an old shoe box.

I can't bear to look
at them

size 9
brogues...tan...if I remember rightly

the photographs I mean
the shoes long gone

one at a seaside
sailing out to sea.

Each year I take a photo
out

( Polaroid of course
a craze of yours ).

Set it in the sun
let the summer eat into you

giving you back
to the light

that made you
when the shutter clicked.

Here you are
now

nothing but white


nothing but white.