My great-grandparents
were sepia—always

wedding clothes, seldom smiling—
they gazed from their bronze world

into the black and white era
of my grandparents,

who sometimes let themselves
be caught in their Sunday best,

still carefully arranged—
almost breaking into smile

when my parents arrived,
laughing, happy as movie stars—

they lifted me up to the camera—
all the colors, coming into view.