He was seven when his dad gifted him a camera and a roll
He didn't know what to do with it until he was told
‘It takes you places past, when memory doesn't last’, his dad said
‘Really?’ he asked with a doubt in his head
He never really used it back then
Until the day they moved to a new den
That’s when memories came knocking in his head
About all the days that he spent
Of the late nights in the courtyard
And of the days running around the fields and the fence
He took out the camera from the pouch
And gave it a nice rub like Aladdin did to his lamp
And took pictures of places and spaces
Of every little thing that he saw in hazes
With every picture that he took
His love for traveling grew like a brook
He thanked his dad for that beautiful gift
That let him be million places in a swift
He treasured that gift which he got at seven
And it was since that day in the distant past
That Being Traveler came to pass!
This is a guest post written by Jincy "Speaking my mind". I personally love her poems and this has been written on a special request. Thanks Jincy for this lovely poem.
