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memory in sepia tone
by Mary Ellen SmithA Sunday drive
through old familiar streets.
I catch a glimpse
of the family.
there I am on the end
looking awkward
and a little goofy.
it is an old photograph of a memory
sepia tone
faded.
mom is there
in her black 60's glasses
and dad
crew cut hair
black t shirt
strong.
brothers and sisters
smiles frozen in time
just a phone call away now.
this funny feeling in my throat
a cry catching the past
trapping it.
I want to weep
at the passing scene
stop and touch cement
blacktop
brick
stone.
there used to be a house there.
07/18/2004 Author's Note: A drive through our old childhood neighborhood brought on a tearful moment...
Posted on 07/19/2004
Copyright © 2024 Mary Ellen Smith
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Kara Hayostek on 07/19/04 at 04:05 AM I really enjoyed this poem, made me feel sentimental. I lived in so many houses as a kid, but only two were happy...I wish i could visit them. |
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