Poems and Songs

Photographer's Progress

I remember, I remember, the Brownie I once had,

The little window where I peered when I was just a lad.

A magic box of tricks it seemed, that present from my Dad.

About correct exposure, I had never yet been told;

The rules of composition would no doubt have left me cold.

I snapped away without a care - I wasn’t very old.

Time passed.  I bought a camera with  lots of knobs and screw;

I read in photographic books the things one shouldn’t do;

The number of the shots I took grew less the more I knew.

For seldom did I seem to get the conditions right

The clouds were wrong or maybe the direction of the light

And days that were not far too dull were mostly much too bright.

So now I own a camera with shining knobs galore,

But almost it would seem I don’t take photos any more,

(And sometimes I have wished I had my Brownie as before.)


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