PERSONAThe persona is the poet herself. Of mixed parentage, she had been adopted by a white Scottish couple, thus the reference to black hand.

SETTINGThe setting is her grandmothers or parents house, where the photograph is kept.

TONE AND MOODThe poem is reflective and thoughtful, sometimes bitter, reminiscing about her childhood and her relationship with her grandmother. She misses her and keeps her memory alive by looking at the photo.

POINT The poem is written in the first person.

STRUCTUREThe poem has no organised rhyme scheme. It has 3 stanzas, all of varying length, each becoming shorter as if in line with the shrinking size of the grandmother. It uses free verse.

STANZA ONE- This is the longest with 7 lines, echoing her tall stature

STANZA TWO- This becomes shorter, as she become shorter and hunched.

STANZA THREE- Consists of 3 lines, echoing the poets age (three) in the photo. In sharp contrasts with the length of the first two, it emphasises the importance she places on her relationship with her grandmother.

LANGUAGEThe language of the poem is simple and easy to understand.

MORAL VALUES -Appreciate family relationships-Love your adopted children as your own without discriminating against colour and creed.-Respect the old even when they are gone.

POETIC DEVICESThe power of the poem comes from the careful use of imagery.IMAGERY Colour images predominate in stanza 1 grey bun, white broderie anglaise shirt, white hand in black hand and blue eyes to highlight colour differences between the poet and her grandmother. -- Images of shape and form stress the stature of the grandmother as she grows older and more hunched tall, small, round, hunched and straight-back.METAPHOR My small grandmother is tall there she is short but looks tall as she is not hunched. -- the crinkled smile is still living, breathing the photo looks very lifelike.

THE LIVING PHOTOGRAPHJackie Kay

My small grandmother is tall there,straight-back, white broderie anglaise shirt,pleated skirt, flat shoes, grey bun ,a kind, old smile round her eyes.Her big hand holds mine,white hand in black hand.Her sharp blue eyes look her own death in the eye.

It was true after all; that look.My tall grandmother became small.Her back round and hunched .Her soup forgot to boil.She went to the awful place grandmothers go.Somewhere uknown , unthinkable .

But there she is still,in the photo with me at three,the crinkled smile is still living, breathing.Vocabulary BoosterDecoration with sewing on fine white clothHaving a narrow fold in a piece of cloth togetherLong hair that has been brought into a round shape and is worn at the back of the headTo sit or stand with ones back and shoulders curved forwardsNot known or identified or familiarImpossible to imageCovered with a lot of thin lines and folds