Picture frame the moments. 

In diaries write them down. 

Hold on to such with all you have

for times will come around,

when they will be all that you have

to make it one more day. 

And on that day let all else go…

then you will find the way.

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You mourn old photographs:

‘I was pretty then, and I never knew it.’

I’ve just filled an album

with our last pieces of paper

before digital took over:

It includes my mother’s 80th birthday

(she just missed out on 90).

A fabulous, tearful, joyous Sikh wedding,

dancing to the bhangra boy’s beat,

the marriage lasting little more

than a year. That holiday in Sorrento...

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