The Picture

There are pictures on the piano,

Pictures of the family,

Mostly my kids but there's an old

Picture of you and me.

You were five and I was six

In 1952

That was forty years ago

How could it be true?

We were sitting outside drawing

At a table meant for cards,

And it must have been in autumn,

Falling leaves in the front yard,

With a shoe box full of crayons,

Full of colors oh so bright,

In a picture in a plastic frame,

A snapshot black and white.

You were looking at my paper,

Watching what I drew

It was natural: I was older,

Thirteen months more than you.

A brother and a sister,

A little boy and girl,

And whoever took that picture

Captured our own world.

A brother needs a sister

To watch what he can do,

To protect and to torture,

To boss around—it's true

But a brother will defend her

For a sister's love is pure,

Because she thinks he's wonderful

When he is not so sure.

In the picture there's a fender

Of our old Chevrolet

Or Pontiac—our dad would know,

Surely he could say

But dad is dead and we grow old

It's true that time flies by

And in forty years the world has changed

As well as you and I.