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Updated on March 21, 2015

An old black and white photo.

He takes the picture

in his old weathered hand.

I watch him as he holds the photo,

his hand shakes ever so slightly.

He smiles and shakes his head,

was I ever that young, he asks?

In an instant my eyes can see,

he has gone back in time.

Are we ever prepared for getting old?

I knew nothing then,

just the joy of being carried.

The smiles on our faces,

though in black and white, they glow.

In those days he was,

the strongest man in the world

As I look at him now,

he still is.


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