The Photographer

There is a world outside the lens dear photographer whose eye pressed to squint to capture is all there is.
Your day, a hopeful moment wished for amidst the hapless. Squeeze and release, wait, impatience. Sift through the sheets, negative upon negative. So many negatives. A book of flat pressed 'not good enough' types. I sit amongst those. Black and white frames quite separate from the colour section. Catalogued. Your black and whiteness against my colour "Golden" you told me like the 'Wonder' song you played me. Separate. You cannot give more than awkward. Camera to camera, roll in roll out. Day in day out. Doubt kills, your indecision spills like the chemicals in your tray. If only you could see the beauty outside of that cold metal frame.