Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Zio's Picture

He would stare
At the picture
For hours on end
And when we would enter
The room, he would
Tuck it away
In the middle of a book,
In a night stand,
Under a pillow.

We never asked what
The picture froze in time,
It was another of Zio's
Many mysteries.
We would imagine
What it possibly would be,
A battalion of a war
Too vicious to forget,
Zia in her wedding dress
Holding onto his arm
Like she was holding
Onto her future.

Our musings fell at
The wayside
When we at last saw
The picture.
The day after we said
Goodbye to Zio
For the last time,
We found the picture
Where he last
Tucked it away.

She was not Zia,
And yet behind her
Was Zio's favourite coat
At the time.
The time he was
Zia's new husband.

She looked at the photographer
With an air of familiarity
That could only be found
Between lovers,
And we knew Zio
Was the photographer.

We said nothing
To each other.
One of us tucked
The picture away.
In that moment,
We all decided to
Leave that mystery
With Zio.

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