Ellen Jones, Liverpool, circa 1925

her loose bun 

disappears 

into dark background

in profile, a slender nose

like my father’s    and mine

soft edged photo at twenty one

before the shrapnel

air raid sirens

evacuations

at thirty five she faces forward

a short bob 

my young father

stands beside her 

his 13th birthday 

they picnic on tea and cake

in a Welsh meadow

beside a strangers house 

did he tell her,

I only get one meal a day

did she tell him,

your brother cries all night

in the bomb shelter  

six months later

her boys board a ship

one of thirty

in a convoy to Canada  

three ships torpedoed

seventy children killed 

in those weeks before the telegram arrived

did she face forward,

clear and determined

or sit in the darkness

in profile

praying softly

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The March 31st 'early bird' prompt for NaPoWriMo: Write a poem about a portrait. I wrote this last month and completed the edits today. It's inspired by this photo of my Grandmother.