bent edges, faded stripes
my mother holding me with all her might
my teeth wide, a Cheshire grin
flaming locks reminiscent of Jolene
my mother's eyes bright as oceans
scintillating laughter, it's a potion
of happiness but what do we see?
no one matches my eyes of green
it's just all these seas
but if there was a different version
gilded frame, in the latest fashion
of mother and child, still the same,
but with a man by a different name
his eyes are grassy, his hair shiny cognac
he could've been, but there was a balk
in his demeanor, he wasn't positive
of the life that was this massive-
so that film was never developed
the camera's shot was interrupted
instead his photos show three little ones
eyes like rivers, hair like golden suns
for only in my mind's photos of lackluster
are my parents still together.