no more reds brighter than the sun,
If I seek colors deeper,
must look elsewhere than this ended run.
Paul begged his mother not to hoard it,
its nice bright colors preserved if we stored it,
Our necks craned high if we wished to view it,
though often not sorted cause I hadn't got to it.
Held in boxes shielded from the light,
many memories of places past stored out of sight,
Like the ones with wee horses a death knell,
has been rung for another type of carousel.
Pixels no doubt level the paying field,
today's clicking shutter offering a better average yield,
Gone the days when I schlepped 40 pounds to every shoot,
the complaints of elders such as me, no doubt moot.
I watched with dread this day to come,
each increase in resolution beat like an approaching martial drum,
Past 3 then 5 then 8 and beyond 10,
my beloved's 14 would one day be impossible to defend.
Truth be told I should confide,
I often can't recall where I put that slide,
China, Germany, Italy, our mainland and Hawaii too,
Dearest, some day from them, our kids will learn a lot of me and you.
Doomed to fade as all memories may,
life's colors slipping with each passing day,
Reds will pale and greens will blur,
not much more permanent than the instances they caught, only that is sure.
In boxes, sleeves, and the odd carousel,
Some easy to place and others hard to tell,
No more additions to all those scattered about my home,
for at long last they have taken away my beloved Kodachrome...
If I seek colors deeper,
must look elsewhere than this ended run.
Paul begged his mother not to hoard it,
its nice bright colors preserved if we stored it,
Our necks craned high if we wished to view it,
though often not sorted cause I hadn't got to it.
Held in boxes shielded from the light,
many memories of places past stored out of sight,
Like the ones with wee horses a death knell,
has been rung for another type of carousel.
Pixels no doubt level the paying field,
today's clicking shutter offering a better average yield,
Gone the days when I schlepped 40 pounds to every shoot,
the complaints of elders such as me, no doubt moot.
I watched with dread this day to come,
each increase in resolution beat like an approaching martial drum,
Past 3 then 5 then 8 and beyond 10,
my beloved's 14 would one day be impossible to defend.
Truth be told I should confide,
I often can't recall where I put that slide,
China, Germany, Italy, our mainland and Hawaii too,
Dearest, some day from them, our kids will learn a lot of me and you.
Doomed to fade as all memories may,
life's colors slipping with each passing day,
Reds will pale and greens will blur,
not much more permanent than the instances they caught, only that is sure.
In boxes, sleeves, and the odd carousel,
Some easy to place and others hard to tell,
No more additions to all those scattered about my home,
for at long last they have taken away my beloved Kodachrome...
1 comment:
Time for a Paul Simon tune?
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