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THE PICTURE

THE PICTURE

You were only 14 in the picture, you said,
And Daddy was 18, with hair  of  bright red.
What were you thinking, as you stood there together,
In the year 41 in summer's bright weather?

In another short year you would be man and wife,
And another year later you would bring forth new life;
And that new life was me.  What must you have thought
When you looked at the baby whom your love had brought?
Did you talk about my future when you mentioned my name?
Did you think how I'd grow into the woman I became?

I look at the picture in the frame on the wall;
Of the 62 years which have passed, and of all
The rest of the family who would come after me
From the union of two people who once stood 'neath a tree.
And pledged all their love, shared a home and a bed,
A pretty young woman and the man with hair red.

I see me in The Picture in the form of your face
And Lois' son Frankie could stand in Dad's place.
And Toni's red hair, passed on to her son;
Through Mila and her girls the bloodline still runs
Through each generation, and the picture tells all;
It's the story of life in a frame on the wall.

Joan Rowden Hart, 2/12/04



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