A Tin-Type

A Tin-Type...a Picture,
From long, long ago.
I asked if it was,
And they said it was so.

My old Uncle Joe,
Was silent and slim.
And I barely could remember,
The sight of him.

For a long beard hung,
Upon his face.
And the front of his collar,
Was made of lace.

He had a watch-bob,
That was made of jade.
And the stone in the center,
Was of grey-inlaid.

The tin-type had rusted,
And all I could see.
Was a part in his middle,
And a part past the knee.

E.P. 1908 - 1989

Ethel's great grandson is a GoPro rep doing extreme speed flying. The tin-type has come a long way.