The Photographer’s Portrait

He snapped away at beautiful things –
He was one of the best;
Able to capture momentary bliss.
His life in stills would be momentous;
Memories and moments of making smiles.
It’s easy to capture the outside;
It’s a gift to capture the inside.
But he did it – every time,
Maybe it was in his finger…

But as he snapped he got older,
Until one day his arthritis finger hurt to push.
That’s the day he had his portrait painted.
I painted it.
You should have seen his smile;
It radiated.
It made me smile.

That’s rare.

Now it hangs above his rocking chair
Next to the fire place.
His smile is eternal now:
To match his photographs.

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