Perhaps not so much his spirit as his image but still now I feel I’ve met him my father’s father.  Found his photograph while clearing out dad’s things after he deceased tucked into a diary at the back of a drawer. Black and white features of a young man in the midst of life.  Starched collarless shirt sharply creased same with his trousers.  Boots highly polished  neat tidy appearance despite what I know were hard times on the way to war. Harry Johnson, aged 39, died of liver cancer in 1936 according to his death certificate.  Accorded a pulse beat from a scanner resurrected 21st January 2002 Sits upon the clouds in Windows from where he now weighs me with deep suspicion if not surprise.

A Moment In Monochrome