flashback in time
to a youthful sailor
blue eyes and a beguiling smile—

Years pass
four daughters laugh
he walks each down the aisle
paving the future with new hope—

grandchildren come
some share his coal-black hair
all learning lessons of family—

. . .

Even the briefest form of poetry
can have a wingspan of immeasurable breadth.
—Jane Hirschfield

I sat with three cinquain prompts: coal, pave, and flashback. The image that came to my mind first was of an old photograph of my Grandpa. Words have a mysterious way of conjuring images.

I wonder if anyone receives similar unannounced visits.

The spirits of people we love seem to wisp by and breathe little reminders in our hearts of a time long past. Before we know what has happened, coal-black hair and blue eyes pierce into the now. Memories rushing past, a torrent of bygone days full of love, tragedy, hope, and moments that made us who we are and who we may yet become.

pink red buds blossom on a single branch with blue sky and limbs in the background. Text: Poetry centers the heart. by Kathryn LeRoy

. . .

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Photo Restoration © Kathryn LeRoy