A morning lost in reflection
And small talk, where answers
Are offered before questions are asked – –
Where ancient anecdotes draw blank faces
Through unvaried retelling – –
Your voice guides me to a room
Filled with cobwebbed memories
And dead spiders – –
You stare at me
Through a beam of dust
Young and framed
Six feet above the ground – –
There is no smile on your face:
Annoyed by your mother’s refusal to let
You wear that long skirt
You had designed and stitched yourself
“Protecting” you, you said, from the overfriendly
Photographer’s sepia-toned gaze – –
I must now liberate you from this glass cell
And let you out on your last parole
To visit your parents and your husband
Residing, dear mother, in the timeless family album.
An Apostrophe Poem addressed to the narrator’s mother in a cryptic dramatic monologue , through an old sepia tinted photograph full of wistful nostalgia.
Thank you so much,dear Amita.
Albums tell deep toned stories,so does cobwebbed rooms.Reminded me of the poem ‘A Photograph ‘ by Shirley Toulsen. Beautiful work,quite photogenic.
Thank you,dear Nalini.
The poem is a page out of the album of memories where the poet is liberating noostalgia from its glass frame. Beautiful !!
Thank you,dear Madhu.
Beautifully written. That nostalgic yet liberating tone is really sweet.
Thank you so much,Viji.