Watching Me

By Bud Lemire

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

©Mar 9, 2016 Bud Lemire
                      Author Note:

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.

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