That poem, Smile, that I posted earlier this week: I keep tinkering with it. I felt it wasn't clear that the son had died. It now looks like this. Maybe I'm now being too blatant.
A smile won't fade with death. Her son
is grinning still from magazines,
from playgrounds, bikes and prams – a mine
of memories and could-have-beens.
A smile won't fade with death, once known.
