MY FATHER’S PHOTOS
Every day of his working life
he dealt with
I believe deep in his
to be a photographer.
His love took seed
during his stint in the U.S. Navy.
He served as a photographer on an aircraft carrier
life at sea
and the exotic places they visited:
Later he showed
the same care in documenting
our family life with thousand upon thousands
Every step we took from the cradle,
my father was there with his camera,
capturing it for posterity.
The documents of our past,
now sit in boxes in
the closet of my father’s den room
like forgotten artifacts
The other day
I pulled out one of the boxes
and looked at the photos.
Faces of my youth
stared back at me
shot with such care and love.
I wondered why my dad shelved
I asked him but he wouldn’t say.
He’s retired now
but still, the photos sit untouched in the boxes.
I even bought him a photo album
but he just put it in one of the boxes.
I believe the photos
remind him he put aside his true love
to crunch numbers.
They represent a picture of sadness and regrets.
His dream is languishing,
piled in cardboard boxes,
frozen in pictures of our family’s past.