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
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.
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.