As the seasons changed
I watched the sun rise and fall over and over again
And saw the shadow dancers in the moonlight
Sat alone with only my thoughts
I dreamed of times gone
And of times to come
And yet time never seemed to pass
Between the arch of boughs
And the canopy of colours
I heard birdsong
But could not sing myself
But you never came
So I waited no more.
This is what happens when you should really have gone to bed after a 12 hour night shift but find yourself editing images to wind down. It becomes an adventure that I probably will not be able to repeat when my mind functions as it should. The poem too comes from seeing the finished image, as in most cases the images leads me to write.