I Saw a Picture of Irene

It was the year of `Spirit in the Sky.’ I kept your picture Irene. We all thought we would die young. Your grainy wedding photograph (cut at the time from a local newspaper), has emerged again like a yellow submarine. I imagine your rainbow stockings still flying from the periscope of that long abandoned vessel. The sky-spirit is arriving Irene, seagulls are singing like larks. I suspect that both our eyes are turning to diamonds Irene, shining diamonds.