The Mirror
She swished and swayed the fabric of the dress
Before the mirror's full-length glass,
And forty years of living
Vanished;
Time returned to weeks and months
Of minute preparations,
And I got a glimpse
Of what transpired
Behind closed
Doors
So long ago.A Kodak moment which for me,
As camera strove to
Snatch the fleeting moment from
The slip of passing time –
While insufficient skill, control,
And coolness each conspired
To keep it from
My grasp,
Was gone.But here within my brain
And memory it bides
Ephemeral but there –
That precious moment registered
Within.How strange it is – such potent wisps
Of life emerge,
Then fade to quiet
Just as quick –
Yet leaving their deposit
Rich within our
Hearts.Quite unannounced they come,
Then thrill us deep within
With flash of life around –
Call echoes from our hearts
And thrill of joy
Unspeakable
For all our
Bumbling words.Most times I have no camera quite at hand,
But here, I shot already –
Yet despite it all, it still
Eluded capture –
As if partaking life
Some other sphere.Is this what photos are?
The ones, that is,
Which Karsh and all his type
Can capture for us all
Of Bulldog leaders,
Fancy folks,
And average
Yet captured
Nonetheless?Is that what authors do?
The Hugo's, Atwood's – Lawrence and the rest?
As they with words portray,
Evoke, such thoughts in us
So we recall such moments
In our lives?I wonder if we e'er can capture
Kodak moments with our artists tools –
The family ones that is –
Or if those gifts from God
Are meant to burn themselves
Deep in our hearts and minds,
Lest they be lost
Through fire, flood,
And circumstance of war.But, nonetheless, it's there,
In all its fractured, potent beauty
With other Kodak moments from our lives –
Evoking from my memory
Sweet fragrant glimpses
A life we've had
In all its universal
Richness here
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