This photo
reminds me
it must be 25 years
since we last met.
An elder's face:
shrewd humour
under the smart
upswept grey hair
and wise lines
made by living
a private life
I know nothing of.
I look for the dark-haired
girl, young Mum
who climbed up and fixed
her own roof tiles
and signed my copy
of her sonnets:
'In memory of
our boating expedition' ...
hear her again
in recordings. You still
read your poems
in that clear young voice.
****
I choose for my article
a different photo, between
then and now — fearful
of breaching copyright
but it seems OK,
and anyway
I don't know how
to find you.
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