Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.
Mum kept ours in a brightly coloured tin
There weren’t very many photos back then.
Carefully stored and lovingly treasured,
Mum kept ours in a brightly coloured tin
safe on the bookshelf in our father’s den
bound with elastic to hold down the lid.
There weren’t very many photos back then.
All counted not more than fifty and ten
those black and white images remembered.
Mum kept ours in a brightly coloured tin,
hung over us like an old mother hen
when to see them we begged to be allowed.
There weren’t very many photos back then