Roots Under Glass

My stare, ?       like a statue's -?               not a blink, ?                      wink?                             or twitch -?? Deepened in the history. ??I lift generations to my chest, ?But the frame jealously clamps itself ?Around the black and white haze of years.?? Wet warmth washes the venerable glass ? That nurtures the dulling gloss, ? Keeping clean from the dust of contemplations.?? Duty interjects. ?I bare a smile, ?Telling nod - ? Tacit acknowledgment - ??Then unknowingly place the fading vision ? Back down on the sideboard?? Until another year