Going Back

Gloriously cool photograph of my Keith as a Squadron Private,
Ogling his handsomeness, Keith pulls it away from me saying, "That was when I was good looking, not now my love¦..". He touches his baggy eyes.
"I ought to get these syringed¦..".
Inquisitive and smiling sweetly, I ask about his hair colour.
Neat white hair scrapped back like the fifties is Keith at sixty odd, once his hair was really blonde,
"Girls used to stare at me, I was mistaken for Frank Ifield¦.."

Bored, Keith throws his photo to one side,
"And where is your photo Pushkin, I want to see what you looked like at twenty-one¦.."
Chuckles rise like a water fountain in my throat, remembering that composed shot of me in a Stoke Newington studio, a lopsided afro, a fixed smile and my two piece birthday dress like a pearl wedding gown,
"Keith, you don't want to see that studio photo of me at twenty one,
I looked awkward and my afro was not even round."
"What does it matter my love, its still you¦.." says Keith, grinning.