I look back in wonder,
at all the pictures I’ve taken.
Some beautiful, some ordinary,
some quite simply mistaken.
A ridiculous number of them
should simply not exist.
But I find I simply can’t delete them,
and therein lies the twist.
Except for those times when,
in a shutter-happy frame of mind
I have taken a hundred or more shots
that show no difference of any kind.
In such cases, feeling rather sad,
put upon, oppressed, indeed quite blue.
I go through the multitude,
and then I deign to delete a few. Very few.
After all, each photo represents for me,
a moment captured, a precious memory.
Frozen in time, to look back and see,
all that I was, all that I wanted to be.
These pictures are my past,
To be laughed at, smiled over, cried for.
And sometimes, looked at in wonderrment,
the thought running through my head,
“Just WTF was I thinking?”