Press the shutter
With a deliberate certainty
All of time thus withheld
From your creation
Shades and shadows merge
As do the layered conversations
Occasionally a quietness falls
Only to be broken
By those with a fear of silence
To talk of previous families
The development of generations
Each with their own closure
Some had stayed in the shadows
Odd ones had strayed to fame
Less found the unlikely fortune
Then of course there are
The ones we don’t talk about
This poem is from the collection
