(about 1992)
Even though you had a beard
and had a mustache above your smile
and your hair was brown with no gray
and you held me, Daddy;
Even though your hair was long, Mommy,
your face so smooth,
your child so small . . .
Some things haven't changed . . .
I notice your eyes
and my eyes.
The red and green of our Christmas clothes,
And the love we gathered to one.
I was small enough to curl in your arms
and point my curious finger
at the angel behind the camera.
I hold the thin paper closer.
My hair falls upon our faces;
I see how my baby hair has darkened
and grown into curly strands.
Yet some things haven't changed.
I see how close we were
and how you held me up.
I smile to see in all reality
some things haven't changed.
Then I wonder who the angel is
who took the picture that bright December
in order for me to see now
this memory . . .
A manifestation of the feelings:
love, care and laughter
that encompass us,
and I thank that angel;
I thank that angel
for taking the picture
and thank God above
that some things haven't changed.
