Father still hangs there:
a beautiful young man
in gaudy clothes

who made himself heard
with high heels
just married, not strict

the man of duty
I have known, in working-clothes
busy with important matters

with a lenient look
at Mum dressing up
in discomfort, in the morning

of their brass wedding
both passed the switch points
continuing on each other's track

Mum in the stylish colours
she didn't need before
to belong

Father increasingly frugally fighting
for recognition of his achievements
until their bodies over the years

will turn switch points again
and he will smile leniently
at his portrait together with Mum