Photography

I sit with a blank page before me
Thinking about photographers
About the early, creative, curious, ones
Who, with pewter plates and silver salts
Struggled, like me, to create something
On the plain fallow surface before them

It is they who gave us black and white portraits
The first penny farthings, babies in the bath
The bald headed the bleak and the beautiful
And the selfies which will come back to haunt us

And to think that all of this started
With just a simple pin point of sunshine
The dream that light could paint pictures
And an obsession with stopping time

© Declan Whitney