Photographer

He opens his old battered rack

After having served for ages

now crumbling and decaying

The photos taken lying inside

with newer ones on top

And older buried down

Some snaps from when he was young

of the world he loved

Which he thought will never fade

and remain new for ever

He grabs a few

and glances through each

Few images faded or forlorn

Brings the snaps close to his eyes

Eyes strain with the faded ones

Tries hard to recall the images

When he preserved them

Recalls a few, while others fail him

He closes his eyes and reminisces the past

Of the world ages back

Opens his eyes after a slumber

Now its brighter outside

With the old world still lingering

And the desire to return strong

He walks out

To capture the images again