Reflections
The irritating yet captivating snapping of the shutter
The hypnotizing flash of white light
The mysterious spiral of the lens.
The camera beckons me towards it,
My fingers reach out to grasp its smooth sides.
It fits perfectly in my hands,
And I can't help,
But to begin the endless addiction of photography.
Artist Tools
The paints swirl against each other in the pallet.
The brush swipes gently across them,
Collecting small beads of color.
As the paints begin to dry out
A few drops of water splash onto their surfaces,
Saving them from an untimely fate.
Numbers
The keys, to anyone else, are a jumble of numbers and letters.
But not to me.
To me they are more than that.
They are a language.
A language that every speaks.
One and two become "Hello, how are you?"
Four and five become "Nice to see you, I'm doing fine."
Unfortunately, only a select few can understand these hidden messages.
To others,
The keys are simply numbers.
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