Candid Camera (Poetry)

I dreamt they hung my photos up
on some unending wall
and I walked down those narrow miles
and gazed upon them all

the out-of-focus and the blurred
the moments that I froze
and composition rested on
the subject’s random pose

If they were Art I cannot tell
the judgement isn’t mine
I only know those images
inspired me at the time

to click the shutter catching life
sent flying through the frame
it came and went but somehow now
they don’t look quite the same

It’s me that’s changed — old age has drawn
a veil across my eye
the camera gathers in its dust
and apathy knows why