Origin

 

 

Open the first photo album you can find — real or virtual, your call — and stop at the first picture of yourself you see there . Tell us the story of that photo.

 

Origin

 

Looking through old photos,

I’m stopped in my tracks.

The moment we first said hello

As she rocked me to and fro.

 

In a blink of an eye,

It seems I was born.

A heavy heart and a sigh,

Fourteen years later, I would mourn.

 

Time with her was far too short,

A mother’s love never dies.

Memories safely locked away

Recalling her voice, quieting my cries.

 

The story of my first image

Is of love without an end,

A closeness that won’t diminish –

The origins of my first true friend.

 

© S. Reed

I speak more of my grieving process here