Each page is stained with salty watermarks,
And ev'ry photo there is black and blue.
In retrospect, the view is seldom stark,
But tinted glasses brought no rose to view.
A smile that showed less white with passing years -
Her nose, a crooked stack atop her face.
The leaves themselves would resonate with jeers;
Each dreadful still igniting her disgrace.
And now she laughs, the album at its close,
A little boy and girl on either side.
Her children prove that where there's love, there's growth -
For him, he dwelt with weeds and so he died.
A photo's truth is often steeped in lies:
The victim here would live and love and thrive.
A well constructed poem and for me the best of the poems submitted this week. This form of poetry seems to be one of your strengths and this poem is another fine example. It flows well and conjures strong imagery. If I do have a criticism it’s with the rhyme in a couple of places. “watermarks and stark, and close and growth, but that didn’t distract me too much. Well done.