Photo by Mike Marrah on Unsplash
A poem about the grief Facebook aroused
The photo stops me scrolling.
My breath catches in my chest.
The tears well in my eyes.
You were a sleeping babe
in the arms of my mother.
Warm, safe, content.
Omama looks down on you
with pure delight.
Her great granddaughter.
Opapa looks down on you
with enchantment.
I want to reach into the photo
Touch your soft downy hair.
Caress your roly-poly cheeks.
Kiss your baby fingers.
The photo was taken by me
Only two years ago.
Yet an eternity.
No more scrolling today
I turn off the computer.
(First featured on Medium platform June 26, 2021)