Watching Me

Watching Me

© by Bud Lemire on March 9, 2016

 

Out of my window, the fog rolls on in

I look a bit closer, could that be my twin?

Out of the fog, comes a man on a red bike

Carrying a camera, and we look alike

He seems to be searching, and looking around

From the 15th floor of the Harbor Tower, I can't hear a sound

He takes out his camera, and takes a picture I see

As I watch his movements, he acts a lot like me

I see him riding his red bike to another spot

He jumps off his bike, and takes another shot

He's seeing things that I can't see from up here

I'm sure I would see them, if I was near

I see him ride out to Aronson Island, and then he comes back

On his back there seems to be a good sized backpack

Assuming he's me, I know what is inside there

A water bottle, a snack, extra batteries, that he takes everywhere

From the bridge to the Marina, to the Municipal Dock

I watch as he captures the scenes, around the clock

He must be seeing something, that no one else can

I should know what he is seeing, for I am that man

Yet, how can I see me, when I am up here

There's a fog in my mind, that makes it unclear

Am I seeing the future, or maybe the past

Why am I having this vision, I ask myself at last

I stop asking myself why, as I'm looking at me

As I see me take a picture, of a beautiful tree

I was gazing out the window today and saw the

fog rolling in. I thought of myself down there

taking pictures. There are days when you can find

much more beauty, and there days when you find less.

But I always find most days, I can find something good

in every day to take a picture of.