The Photographer’s Reverie

They cannot understand us
As we watch them through the glass
Their cold eyes reprimand us
As they busily swish past
Yet those who stop to study me
Whose eyes don’t slide away
Are dangerous to what they see
Regarding us as prey
But still I watch and still we stand
And still the shutter clatters
Whilst all our hearts beat neath my hand
And fate so cruelly mutters
Yet hour by hour the work we make
Will lead us to our goal
For every frame the shutter takes
Steals something of their soul

Jane Jago

Image © Paul Biddle

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