The Photographer's Poem

The gift of Memory is such an awful curse,

'cause when I finally leave your arms,

each step away from you makes it worse;

The longing I feel, setting off internal alarms.

Little notes here and there,

and small tokens of our affair.

They remind us how we feel

though this situation is not ideal.

Perhaps we can together be,

in the land of the imaginary.

A few flowers, be they Dandelions or Roses,

given at the right time is all that he needs.

Just as a poet or photographer composes

their work, so does a lover sow his seeds.

Through twists and turns we slide

Living life in the bodies we reside

Like a cars on a roller coaster ride








Dear Readers,
The Poet sent me a picture she took today, and I liked it. I also found it inspiring. So I wrote a poem for it. It's called "A Few Flowers" (Sorry for the repeating picture subject matter, that's just how it worked out) (Hopefully the official day 49 poem and picture will be up later tonight)


--The Photographer