Reflections and Poetry

Photo Finished: a poem

Staring at a photograph 

from 15 years ago

I look at you.


Returning from a film

based on a murder

I think of the victim.


If we knew our date of death

how different would we live

savouring the moments?


I’d be more carefree

more relaxed

have more fun.


So, shall I pretend my date of death?

“Teach us to number our days”

I think now — I know how.


And so, I shall.