When we were young,
You’d sit us down
And tell us wonders
Of love and loss,
Surviving two wars;
Meeting Gran by chance
In the days when wireless reigned,
And sail still ruled
The waves you’d swum
Since childhood.
You spoke an age
In photographs
Distilled from memory.
I glimpsed you last
As I boarded the ferry home
(before they closed it down):
An arm,
Enigmatically raised
In a brief salute.
Ignoring the final click
Of the shutter.
