Photograph Taken on the Burrard Street Bridge (Facing West), July 1984

Just like a magic trick the lines appear;
Quite faint, ghost-grey at first, but by and by
Like lace they intertwine – a face lies here!
The image whole, you set it out to dry.
The breeze was brisk that day; my hair whips wild
About my face. My mouth is slightly blurred
My eyes are wide and shining like a child.
The shutter must have caught my lips mid-word.
Remember when I begged to throw it out,
Too conscious of my less-than-perfect smile?
You hung it on your wall to make me pout
You grinned it had a “frank, authentic style.”
Four decades deep in Botox and champagne
I’d give it all to feel like that again