My grandfather was an image hunter
Polaroids, home movies, mischievous snaps;
His silken, ninja quickness made us chunter
Muttering as he captured our lives’ maps
I seldom complained, for his work held fast
The wild torrent of temporality
Few moments through which we pour really last
But thanks to him, my erstwhile self I see
A small, smiling splasher, giggling mad
Surrounded by my sweetly swimming aunts
Blue dreams of mermaids I had often had
They splashed into being, as his stills grant
I did not imagine or dream their laughs
They swim still, through his summer photographs
About the Creator
D. J. Reddall
I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
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