A Photograph Of Two Brothers

By Dick Davis

How old were we? Eight, ten or so?
I seem the fearful one  you glow,
All bounce and boyisch confidence,
Which looking back now makes no sense.
I haven’t changed that much  and yes,
I hurt too easily I guess,
Though mostly now the tears I shed
Are proxy tears, for you, long dead.

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Pick Me Up Poetry seeks to be an agent of change in society by fostering cross-cultural dialogue and providing much-needed information and representation for writers and performers. We offer our followers insightful glimpses into cultures around the globe through various mediums including our online articles, poetry collections, spoken-word videos and more. 

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