Frustration of Photography?

This is my paintbrush,

Held loosely between tips

Of flying dreams-

Wishing to absorb the skyline and

Paint you a perfect memory.

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Remember the hanging, smooth eggs

Adorning London’s nest like jewels?

It stared back at us,

The raging heaven-hell Sun

It’s powerful pupil,

The burnt, bruised clouds

It’s glowing iris.

The ever-watching eye.

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Or perhaps you recall

The silhouetted buses,

Washed black by the Shadow People

Who prowl through London at Night,

Turning trees to ebony

And rivers to seas.

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I hope you crossed

The bridge over the Thames,

Made iridescent like Teribithia,

A Pathway to Paradise

In my imagination.

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Loose yourself,

Burn off your frustration-

At your metal friend’s

Inability to see

Like your heart-

By sitting in the midst

Of the Dying Sun’s rays.

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For Posie - my amazing photographer friend (and Clare, although she got some good photos...) x