My Tragic Sense of Life
I get a sepia-tinted sadness just
from recalling an old photograph
of my parents on honeymoon,
posed by the seafront railings
in Douglas, Isle of Mann, with
a solid Irish Sea for backdrop.
And so, the sadness builds –
it was over ninety years ago,
throw in all that’s gone, all those
inter-war art deco revolutions
round the sun, and throw in
the photographer – he’s gone too,
after permanently fixing their happy
embarking-on-life-together smiles,
but taking their luminosity of spirit
away with him in his hooded camera –
no wonder they could never change
their stoic Edwardian mind-set;
or so it seems to me, raised with
their best, but undemonstrative, care.
***
Thanks, Trevor. I’ve changed the layout as you suggested. Thanks for your comments. I’m pleased my new efforts seem to be working.
Best, Gerald.
A touch of nostalgia and wistfulness characterise this well crafted poem inspired by a sepia-tinted photograph.
The absence of warmth in the raising of children was typical of a long ago generation accustomed to a more rigid way of life and it may have appeared uncaring.