The album will

be complete when

the last pictures are developed

And those will be photographs

that we will not be

allowed to see


Nor does it matter

since in all likelihood

we’d not recognize ourselves

in the ways we have become

For in our mind’s eye

we remain young


It is grace that

those who love us

remember us this way as well

Pushing the child on a bicycle

or tumbling down

a hill in snow


It is a comfort

to consider all this

sitting here at the old bus stop

awaiting time’s shuttle to pass

wondering if it now

comes for us


About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
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