A SONNET TO A PICTURE by HELEN FIELD WATSON

I do not need this picture on my wall
To show me how you looked. Your hopeful eyes,
Your firm, young lips, your smile, I can recall
At any time. My memory of you lies
So intermixed with vivid life, tonight,
If I were but an artist I could draw
A picture of you with each feature quite
As true as if you posed, with scarce a flaw.

I placed your portrait in this simple frame
Because so folks assume we honor friends
Who go away. And if I speak your name
They will not say, "Where grief grows, reason ends."
I would recall your face before you fell,
And not as mangled by a shrapnel-shell.

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