A Photo of My Grandparents’ Wedding
There he is: tall, handsome, smartly-dressed
and although he doesn’t know it yet
he’s embarking on a journey
he’ll still be on sixty years later.
And next to him, petite and poised
his new wife is about to cut the cake,
her knife set to slash the ribbon
and commence the adventure.
How could they know
through this monochrome gauze
between them and their future
just what it is that they will encounter?
How could they comprehend
the abundance that will fill their lives
like parcels stacked in pyramids
under a wide-armed tree?
This duo will soon become three,
then four, then gradually more, each new life
twisting tendrils round their trunk
and clasping them together.
This couple will go on to build,
brick on brick, an edifice held forever
with the cement of the shared memories
they couldn’t have fathomed then.
Yet, as I place their picture in front of me,
it’s almost as though I can sense
sixty years’ worth of love in their sepia smiles.
And as I look up at them now
I can still see them as they were back then:
joining hands, linking hearts
and looking forward
to unknown wonders ahead.