Our imperfect, ambiguous existence,
Where precious moments pass without much resistance.
The ticking bomb called time turns the young to old,
And the reminiscing souls laments that there is so much to be told.
Hence camera becomes for us that visual storyteller,
The time machine swapping present with the bygone era.
A perfect device to churn tales of perfect moments,
Bringing smiles, tears of gratitude with its captured fragments.
Photos with family, friends, neighbors and colleagues,
The living and the dead, becomes personal relics.
It is something which provides that much needed soothing touch,
As it documents how we have loved and how we have been loved.
The heartbreaks of life takes a backseat it seems,
As the cherished photos weaves a world of dreams.
The captured moments gives us an emotional high,
As it teaches us to celebrate the event called life.