they say weird words that feint romantic between the arson of feelings and antics twisted like kaleidoscope eyes that's the only way to see you through a lens not quite right telling you it'll all be fine
nowadays i keep the light on my desk organized my bed made my floor clean i see world through a different lens summers have the sun up even the fog see through in the winter i changed my way of living in december
On the map there 's a tripod And an eye blinking trying to focus Far away on a land called Tierra de Fuego And there goes my Muse's Range Rover Greenlaning la luz del amanecer Tracking butterflies orchids grasshoppers and dragons, Sad salads and fired bananas and dew And all sorts of bits and bobs Keeping corrections to a minimum. If it looks Topaz She didn't do it ! She's more like aurora, Traveling long distance with laughter Or lenses cooking light with cuddles Or stir frying a full curried moon over the volcanoes Of seven types of fired bananas Always worried about aperture and exposure My muse wouldn't live without her lens bathing Diving and swimming into the warm and shallow depth of field Just as she wouldn't live without her daily dose Of nine megapixels of bioluminescent plankton Because my Muse is an addict My muse is a Nikon D800 addict and an aurora addict as well Earthing and grounding relentlessly The inner storms of morning light Leading to her native archipelago Of Tierra del Fuego !!
What is buried so deep inside A memory so entwined many lines and differing angles The same frame can be seen Differently with different lenses Different outcome for every scene Can alter all the things And I would not remain as the person I am