My little girl, as she was

Riding a pair of shoulders.

Frozen in a shutter lens wink.

Blink and there gone, time runs on.

A snap that caught a snippet of life.

Wrapped, riding hooded in a red blanket,

Shrouded in mystery

Amidst the snowflakes, each one unique.

Looking back at the lens

All innocence and ambivalence.

I don’t know, should I laugh, smile, shout, eyes open, closed

Looking towards, away, far, I’m cold, what?

I don’t know.

It’s my first time on camera, she might have been thinking.

Smeared fingerprints on the glass

Caress your cheekbones

That are trapped by the ageing frame.

And sometimes

Sometimes I take you out.

Spring the spring and spring you from your prison

And unfold

The other third of the picture.

So I can see your father.

But mostly you remain

My little girl

With the wrong name.