You sit alone, not forgotten, but not wanted
with scratches, stiff buttons, dusty old lens.
You remember what it was like
they watched the world through Your eyes
There are no film, no batteries, or bulb to be found.
You caught the the light of their being,
the shadows of their past
and time that was always fleeting.
Your leather strap old and wrinkled
as though you've spent too many days in the sun
lie lifelessly by your side.
You wonder if you even work
as others wonder too
with stares of interest and sad nostalgia
as if thinking “what a shame, what a damn shame.”
At least your focus still works.
You can see it happening in a flash
streams of light that bounced from one thing to another
a reflex mirror that redirected the image
over and over.
Many moments in life, preserved
in silver crystals and emulsion.
You had a purpose
those pictures on the wall,
like trophies, or scars, or just reminders.
The glory days are reproduce in your mind
and you are blind to all else.
To see you have fallen
reminds us that
one day we will all become