Keepsakes

Keepsakes

My father kept a photo in his wallet,
as I do, as I know many others do.
Mine is of Jane, before we loved,
before our shared life started,
for she was always in my heart
from the first time we met.
His was a woman I did not know,
not my mother, an infatuee,
a besotting I knew nothing of,
a betrayal, probably only ever
in thought, an obsessive attachment,
almost certainly a one-sided non-affair.
He was constant in his way, held tight
his possessions, wife, children, house, car,
but hid a hollow deep within his core.


Colin Will