The Sepia Photograph

During a hunt around for something I had lost track yesterday, I found a framed picture that used to hang in my parents home when they were alive, both gone now for quite some years. It was taken down because it had been damaged at the bottom of it or maybe it had just torn with age. It was a sepia photograph of my grandfather, my mothers father. Mum told me that he had died whilst serving with the British Army in Palestine. She didn't remember him because she was very young when he was killed. She did still have the photograph that her mother had told her that he always carried with him. It was of my mother and her two elder sisters when they were all tiny. On the back he had simply written "My three darling daughters".

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The Sepia Photograph 

He sits wearing a slightly crumpled British Army uniform

The high collar soft from wear, a cord from the shoulder fell. 

The brass jacket buttons are polished and fastened neatly,

A healthy head of dark hair parted and neatly combed. 

His expression weary, between his eye two creases form.

Comfortable and at ease for those at home to tell

That he was well enough and loved his children sweetly

And wished for this adventure he had never roamed. 

Trimmed moustache above his mouth’s expression warm,

The gold band on his left hand is clear to see as well.

Held in his breast pocket above his heart stored neatly,

An image of three little girls who stand un-chaperoned. 

A far away look in his eyes might of the near future warn

Would he see those daughters once more? He could not tell.

Ever see them as they grew or care for them completely,

Or would they see that wedding ring that he once owned?