The Photographer

He searches the distant lands

Lives in the landscapes

He captures

With the lenses of

His eyes

The friends he makes

Reside in his picture

Frames

They wave a friendly "Hello!"

To him, with their

Welcoming eyes

He escapes into

The photos where

The grass welcomes him

With a green doormat

And the Sun lights up

His photogenic smile

But will his sunshine smile

Age as the pictures

Remain in his frames?

We he turn black and white,

With no gray to

Calm him down?

He wrestles with

His camera, notices

The beauty within

His pictures, but it's

Only a matter of time

Before he loses storage space,

And he deletes me from

His camera roll.