I moved his photo

 

 I Moved His Photo

I moved his photo from the hall where it had stood on a table in front of his self-portrait on the

Wall with his ring, the program from his funeral, a tiffany lamp and flowers in a vase. I saw his

Face every time I passed the photo in the hall, then I stopped looking every time, then less, then not at

All.

One day I took off my ring and put it with his, It’s not a wedding

Ring

Nor is his. They are married-twenty-five-years- so-we’ll-probably-stick-together

Rings.

I still have the mark on my finger. It will no doubt

Linger.

I talked to his photo every day.

Good morning, sweetie. Bye,

Sweetie. I’m going to the library,

Sweetie.

Sometimes I’d kiss it, pick it up and hug it, or just touch it. Then not so

much.

Life takes over.

Life goes on. Sometimes I was surprised to see the the photo there, to

see this shrine to the man I was married to. For more than fifty years I was a

wife, then I was – am – a widow,

Such strange words. Now I have a

Life without this man. It makes me sad

Sometimes. Empty

Sometimes, but never lonely. I’m best living alone.

And I haven’t moved the photo far.

Just from the hall to the bedroom, to a shelf with the lamp, and the program, and the rings. I see it in the

Morning

And when I go to bed at night.

It’s not good but it’s

All right.

 

 

13 June 2024

 

 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Writing poems

  Writing Poems It seems I’m writing poems. So bizarre. So Far I’ve written eight, often Late in the evening after drinking Whisky or wine and Thinking profound (not really) thoughts, but sometimes, like now, I wonder How can I do this? I don’t even like poetry. Not usually anyway. But what can I Say? I’m doing it. And then I wonder What In the world I’m going to do with them? I’ve posted some on FB and my friends have been kind and clicked on like but What Is the point? There is no Point. I just do it. I still want to share but Where? I could vanity publish but no one buys poetry and it’s quite a cost for books that would quickly be Lost among my stacks of unbought books. Oh yes, here’s a thought. I’ll start a new blog, I already have Two so it should be easy. Hurrah for Poetry. So with aplomb I invite you to visit rubyspoetry@blogspot.com  
Read more

Scrolling

Scrolling When I’m blue I scroll on Face Book. Do you Too? Does it cheer me up to Look at Nicola Walker on the National Theatre or what could be Sweeter than cute cats? I’m hooked on those posts with Two photos comparing old celebrities with their younger selves and who dated who or Britain’s Got Talent, incredible voices, Amanda Rejoices and Simon cracks a smile. Meanwhile I move from FB to YouTube and Tipping Point and Pointless, oh Happiness when the discs tip and the points go to zero and the winner is a Hero. Ms Mojo is cool too, the best or worst of something or the best and worst of ESC, that’s how I Flee the blues. It doesn’t really help but that’s what I Do. You should try it Too. I can’t stop extolling Scrolling.   
Read more