Faded Pictures

Black and white,
the old picture tells our story.
It looks like a negative,
left too long in the searing light.
Three young girls,
spaced only a few years apart,
Blurred faces on old, dulled paper.
Mother has her arms around us all.
Your bare, skinny arms hang
Like limp rags by your sides,
Depression has already touched your soul.
The anger is clear in your eyes.
Middle child, lost in the shadow
Of your prettier, smarter siblings.
I am dressed in a scant sundress
My tiny breasts, partially exposed,
Looking at something in the distance.
Even then, I was looking
for love somewhere else.
Our special sister sits next to me.
Her head is slightly tilted
listening perhaps, to the secrets
our mother whispered,
Only to her.

(When I wrote the poem Family Pictures, we had to write two poems, and this is the second one. We had several pictues as prompts, this is also imagination at work)