I did not attend your wedding
too soon after we moved
But you came to us, me and Shawn:
You, your camera and Con.

Your first breakfast we remember:
Your front tooth left a gap.
A shock, now we can smile,
for repair we drove mile after mile.

You loved the ease of junk yard sales,
that part of ”America unknown”.
Shot after shot, your way to control
all impressions, contained on a roll.

We looked over the city from high above all,
the top floor from heaven, before the big fall
of the Twin Towers, we watched live from the start
while both on the phone, oceans apart.

I sleep under your work, black and white style.
I learned about pinholes and more.
I don‘t think we need lots of words to express
Life can be great and sometimes a bit less.

You turned an old chair with your hands into gold
These memories stay, enrich life when we get old.
I loved the “late borrel“ oud Den Haag, Stastock clique,
late sun adding farewells to past and old chique.

In the courtyard of the church, at the end of your street,
we both had a drink that turned magic to real.
The whole cast of a play sat for lunch where we‘d stay,
turning us into theatre and life into a play.

Mourning that part but also grateful to hold
In one‘s heart memories when sick and when old:
Driving the old green van on a day in the sun,
with you, Shawn, Camera and Con.