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THE IMAGE MAKER
DAVE THE POET

Walked through the front door, Took a look around
Dust was silent, Sunlight the only sound
Came so far, Nearly lost it all
Took a picture of her five boys, Hung it on a wall

This was home, She’d put down roots
A wild flower in the mountains, Jeans and cowgirl boots
Taste the darkness, Savor the sky
Photo of her Grandmother, Faded black and white
Wore her clothes, The vintage belle of the ball
Hammer and nail, Hung the picture on the wall

Time passes slowly, As life fits together
Emotions explode, Colors captured forever
The more she loved, The more she grew
Surrounded and comfortable
Each day, A new photograph, Waiting to be viewed

Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall
Her jeweled memories, Encrusted the wall’s
The image makers muse call’s
A wandering soul, Her heart kept perfect time
A feather in the wind, Floating along fine
With every second stopped, It’s easier to see
She has everything she needs, To forever fly free