In our imperfect time-bound existence,
Precious moments pass without much resistance.
The ticking bomb called time turns the young to old,
And the reminiscing soul laments that there is so much to be told.
Hence the camera becomes for us that visual storyteller,
The time machine swapping present for a bygone era.
A perfect device to churn tales of perfect moments,
Bringing smiles, tears of gratitude with its captured fragments.
Photos with family, friends, neighbours and colleagues,
The living and the dead become personal relics.
It is something which provides that much-needed soothing touch,
As it documents how we have lived and how we have been loved.
The heartbreaks of life take a backseat it seems,
As the cherished photos weave a world of dreams.
The captured moments give us an emotional high,
As they teach us to celebrate the event called life.