The scholars say that
oil paintings are like windows
windows to the soul
So when the light dawned
something steely simply happened
on a happy monday
From the first moment
as shutter opened and closed
World and time just stopped
Moments Freeze on glass
On The first frame of cold film
the first bit of time
Was it an act of love my dear ?
or something much more dark
developed in a photo lab
you captured me – forever in time
Inkdrop is freelance writer with a passion for exploring the intersections between nature, architecture, and artistic expression. With a background in computing, and writing – his pen name harks back to when he played around with rhymes and a fountain pen. Now joined by a selection of created photos from an acquired DSLR camera He shares insights with scribblers of all backgrounds. Outside of visiting museums and exploring the latest in exhibits , he enjoys walking through the countryside in pursuit of the next rainbow.
The Inkwell 
Leave a comment