Poems and Poetry

My Son’s Thirtieth | A Poem by J.K. Durick

We brought out baby pictures, a whole album’s worth
and passed them around, both sons and their girlfriends
laughed and commented, but so much of the humor was
lost for my wife and me, so many of the people in those
pictures are dead now; a life begins and still goes on, but
many of the others have disappeared into that dark night;
he’s the child of our middle years, old enough to be his
grandparents, so we bring out the pictures, pictures of his
real grandparents, relatives and friends hoping to capture,
recapture moments like this, like in the pictures we were
in then, commenting and laughing – birthdays are like this,
a moment we look back, look forward, and try to catch
the moment as if we could, in pictures that will continue
after we are gone.



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