Adjust the Aperture

3 11 2010

“Take a picture with your words,” she said.
“Don’t forget that the shadows, colors and lines are yours to capture.”

As she spoke, I felt my brain rupture
taking the neurons on a classic adventure.
Nimble fingers adjusted the aperture
where ice white hair and shadowy dark wrinkles
met at a juncture.

“A bit of chemical would bring shady flatness with a tincture,”
she whispered, ending the lecture.