I drafted a couple of poems in response to an actual old photograph on the shelf, but then this popped to mind while I was killing time in a coffee shop. Sometimes it doesn’t pay to be too literal.
Lost and found
He doesn’t recall her
face, even in dreams. Their son brings him
old photographs, but he recognizes
no one, himself least of all.
What he remembers is burying
his face in her hair, the scent
and fall of it, the way his fingers
tangled in the curls.
The Daily Compost 
That is lovely, Jennifer!
Thank you, Carol Ann. 🙂
Poems in response to or about photographs are a favorite genre for me! I wrote one two nights ago, about a fictional photograph, simply because I wanted to write a photo poem again. I like the way you contrast his senses in the poem; he is not visual but his olfactory sense is prominent. 🙂
A fictional photograph – yes! I found myself getting too caught up in trying to find an actual photograph rather than writing about the idea of an old photograph and associated thoughts. Thanks for commenting!
This made me tear up, not a good thing for this sinus infection. hah. Beautiful, Jennifer.
I’m so pleased you were moved by the poem! But I’m sorry to hear that contributed to your sinus woes. I recommend lots of hot tea. I’m partial to a good toddy – or several – myself. I don’t know if it speeds the healing, but I do know I don’t mind the symptoms so much. ;-D
I drank buckets of oolong tea and then had to switch to the no-brand regular tea but “a good toddy” sounds good for taking the edge off ;).