I just finished my 2-year term as Poet Laureate of my town. A very distinguished title, huh? I’ve always written poetry, it’s another form of expressing myself. In fact, sometimes it’s the only way I know of expressing myself. My youngest son is turning 17 next month. One more year left and he, too, will be flying the coop. His passion is photography. When I watch him get so excited about what he does, it makes me so happy that my “baby” has found his place. I was inspired to write this one by watching him watch the world.
He sees the world through his looking glass—
With all its unseen magical shapes and colors—
Bringing life to the torpid….
The concavity molds to his eye.
Full of the curiosity of the little boy of yesterday
And all the promise and hope of the man he is becoming,
He creates art.
Each flash of the shutter captures a microsecond of time
A small moment that is his and his alone—
He creates a new perspective—
One full of vision and clarity: a multi-faceted brilliance.
As he creates this world around him with his lens,
I wonder if he realizes that’s what he did for me.
He made me see the world as a brighter place.
My boy. My guy. My young man. My son.
I watch him as he watches the world.
I see him transform the mundane into the magnificent.
I watch the spectacle of him and see the glimmer in his eye—
The blue glint behind the blonde hair—
That sees beauty in every aspect of life.
He is a work of art.