Like an archaeologist gently brushing
a precious artefact
she caresses an old photograph
from a crumbling envelope
and the face she has struggled to recall
snaps into clear focus.
She has settled for second best
knowing that this, her first love,
is out of reach.
It is not a matter of attractiveness
or suitability, for he has passed
on both counts.
She has been passably happy
and experienced more love
She puts on her reading glasses
and in the background
notices for the first time
the balancing rocks
of her homeland.
Her childhood reaches out
and wipes a tear from her cheek.
She looks out of her window
at her second home, smiles,
and accepts where she is.