Your profile bends the morning light, An angel framed in silver nitrate. My trembling hands adjust the view - Each click confesses what I can't do... In the darkroom's ruby glow, Your image rises, sacred slow. The chemicals like incense rise, Burning truth before my eyes. Shutterbug hearts in holy trance, You - my Eucharist, me - in penance. Every flash a silent prayer, Fingers itch to touch your hair... I keep your shadows locked in trays, Each negative a psalm of praise. That strand that fell across your cheek - My stigmata, soft and meek. The fixer washes clean our sin, Your lips part - the light streams in. But the timer tolls like vesper bells, And heaven's just my client files... Shutterbug hearts in dust decline, You - still perfect, me - the shrine. All my love in silver bled, A sacrament of things unsaid. One day you'll marry summer light, While I develop endless night. The cruelest gift the gods impart? To make an artist of a heart.
