A Camera, Buried

I opened my camera bag
It sad unopened for almost a year
I decided to change that
Looking to create visions of visuals again
In her kitchen, I asked her to pose
Sitting on a wooden stool painted blue
She faced the window to her backyard
The sun was falling across the trees
Leaves not yet born again this spring
I asked her to turn slowly
Over her shoulder her face emerged
Her eyelids facing the Earth
Slowly, they moved to the horizon
Then over at me
Sitting behind her
With my camera pressed to my eye
She looked at me through the lens
The mirror reflecting an image of her face
Her tree-trunk-colored hair
It hung just above her left eye
It was rolled across her forehead
Her lost, island blue sea eyes sparkled
The sun was fading fast
I caught the light just right
Beaming through the window
Over her shoulder as she sat
A wisp of her hair
Light bouncing off her cheek
Brightening the emotion in her eye

© Dallas J. Moore 2015

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