Polka-Dot Days

I study the photographs decorating the gallery's walls.
Striking black and whites with such artistic flair.
Yet, not one of them is from our time together.
Sadness washes over me that not a moment could be displayed here.
Photo after photo of life before and life since,
as if our time did not exist.
I reach the end of your collection.
The last photo is alluring.
A woman's profile,
her face mostly hidden by the brim of a hat.
She is laughing in her polka-dot dress.
I at last realize the woman was me.
I grieve for her now, her laughter in her polka-dot days.

? 2002
Lisa Gibson
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