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.