The picture album in my mind,
Holds images of every kind.
I think it must have been designed,
To bring me joy, and to remind.

My camera eye goes everywhere,
Recording what's seen here and there.
It has no sense of foul and fair.
Sometimes it sees what I can't bear.

I've little choice what's on the pages,
Stored therein throughout my ages.

One time I'll view, for my delight,
A flock herons taking flight.
Another time I'm filled with fright,
By horrid views which come at night.

Some scenes I seek are from me hidden;
While others show up though unbidden.

Some images I'd like to share,
If I could but make you aware,
And send them to you through the air;
I'd do so in a trice, I swear.

Many good ones I can't find,
Because their pages are behind,
Or with some others intertwined,
In something wound I can't unwind.

At times I'm searching for your face,
To see again your charm and grace,
And find my way back to the place,
Lost to me through time and space.

To sum it up, I am inclined,
To thank my God I was not blind.




Picture Album II

The photo album in my mind,
Oft makes me wish I had been blind,
For often times the things I see,
Recall some painful memory.
The things I said or that I did,
Emerge from places they've been hid.

My album holds some lovely sights,
Of splendid days and wondrous nights,
But lurking in the scenes I love,
The gifts sent to me from above;
Unbidden come the times I've been,
Adrift, bereft, immersed in sin.

I have no way to lock the door,
On heinous deeds and thoughts of yore.
This is the price my album claims,
For letting me fulfill my aims,
Of visiting that time of bliss,
I first knew my beloved's kiss.



copyright ©2011 Wayne Hepburn - All Rights Reserved