A cloud of white hair
surrounds her smiling face.
She’s in a garden,
leaning on a big wooden plant box
under a bushy hibiscus
flowering in soft purple.
What is she looking
so very pleased about?
Life in general? The sunny day?
Or the person holding the camera?
I’m looking at my Aunty Kate
(Kathleen) – a favourite aunt
deceased two decades now
but I know that face:
the family nose, the way
the happy grin plumps out the cheeks.
Instantly familiar, too,
how she holds her solid body
square to the viewer,
uncompromising even when relaxed.
Typical Katy, to look so delighted –
whether at the garden, the day,
the photographer, or life itself.
She didn’t enjoy her ageing though,
after she got so ill. (I’m luckier there.)
I’d rather remember her kindness,
her practical wisdom, the love of poetry
we shared. (She left me her poetry books.
Single and childless, she treasured
all her nieces and nephews individually.)
Unlike her, though, surely,
to wear her glasses in a photo?
(Whereas I wear mine all the time.)
And that pendant, a silver dragon:
incongruous choice, I must say,
for such a quiet dresser – let alone
the purple and yellow tie-dye.
So, after all, not in every respect
the dear aunty I knew. (I do know
it’s my son I’m smiling at in this photo.)
Written for the final (sob) prompt, Play It Again, at 'imaginary garden with real toads', specifically for Kim's Portraiture prompt.
