Captured in Seconds

This poem is based on snapshots taken years ago with my Kodak Brownie camera, mostly in glorious black and white as colour film was too expensive.  No selfies in those days!

Sun-drenched August greased my hair.
Salt-sweat dripped from half-shut eyes.
"Fresh from the vine, those peas!"
my father bellowed.
They were too - small and sweet,
some never made it to the pot
as I shelled them.

Me, showing off on my new bike,
wearing my new red check slacks.
"Cool!" they'd say now or "Wicked!"
I was carefree, but like black clouds
before the storm, guilt and grief
were gathering fast.


My mother, looking so well, sun-browned,
not jaundiced.
Her smile sweet, with less than six months
of smiling left.
Captured, happy and contented; none
of us knowing then.


My sister, in the freedom of fields,
where tree-dappled light swathed the old
farmhouse, now levelled.
Our wild flower meadows soon to be sacrificed
for no-character houses and strangers, but
captured that day.


My ex, but not then, standing tall by his
old Vauxhall 14 car, a cigarette drooping from
unsmiling lips.
Posing 'teddy-boy' fashion, handsome yet dangerous.
I courted danger then.

The Brownie captured it all