A small front room in a 1930s house
Plain Roman blinds in the bay window
Sculptures, paintings, vases, books
Two, small red leather settees for show
Lost at Sea is the message on TV
Vulnerability, in each, in all I see
Although occasionally, a tease
Though not yet in my direction
Correction, there was a one corner-smile
With style enough to bare her belly
Mother, daughter, son, potential future son in law
Me, an infrequent visitor, taking snaps, watching telly
It does not sell itself to me now
It didn’t sell it to me then, when
Neither frame, nor image were inclusive
When, at best, I could be called intrusive
