Once on Film & Twice More For Emphasis

Faded videos of times long passed,

of younger years and cheerful faces.

A new father holds his daughter;

smiling,

as a fresh faced mother

dances a Minnie Mouse doll to and fro

coaxing a grin from the quiet little girl.

She waves and grabs for the doll

as a Marlon Brando-esque uncle laughs

and holds a seashell to his nose -

claiming he’s a unicorn, 

or maybe a rhinoceros.

The screen blacks out,

a backyard cookout appears on screen.

Laughing, dancing, carefree times.

Tiny little cake-covered hands and faces.

Everyone so young and fresh and lively.

Decades ago.

The years have worn against the smiling eyes,

carved lines into the once-smooth skin,

dulled the styled, feathered hair of youth.

The new father turns his back,

an empty bottle gripped tightly in his fist.

The mother places her tear-stained face in her hands,

wondering where she went wrong

to become so unloved.

The electric charge of joy is gone from the air,

leaving behind an echoing cavern

so large and wide,

yet claustrophobically dark.

Graying hair and failing eyes,

sore joints and tired bones.

There is laughter from the viewers

but it can’t reach quite as high 

with a weight strapped to its back.

A little girl, permanently young;

a happy couple now divided.

A family of waning eyesight - 

a family hard of hearing.

And it’s hard to hear it.

My family was happy once.

I was happy with my family once.