The Photographer / Poem by Opal Ingram

Poem by Opal Ingram
The Photographer
I regulate those snap shots the walls within the one that no one wants to hear about the past struggles in the deep, the victories the light, I walk through the valley.
The painted signs the torn up streets gentlemen with their briefcases, ladies with their bags I sit in front of the cafe sipping on straight Black coffee in its tiny cup.
I see the the face of every race.
The strange
the beautiful the different I regulate those snap shots.
I see the dresses and the hats fill with laughter and good cheer.
Some fill with fear.but I see the beauty the walls within.
I see the steps oh so tall
I see the painted signs
I see the University
I see the park.
I see the monument oh so grand
I walk through no one should ask
The other what you thinking?
I sit with my glasses so clear
Birds are every where.
In they existence.
I sit besides a stranger loneness is present but I feel the warm.
I see the pleasure the sun shining
Bright the skies clear, I see the smiling faces
I see the man playing the guitar
Who does not want to hear the drummer across the way drumming away.
I regulate those snap shots
I am the photographer.

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