The bride and groom were wed outdoors
on the bank of a New York lake
on a perfect June morning.
The water sparkled blue and crisp
like the bride's shining eyes
The perfect gentle breeze lightly lifted the folds of her dress
just enough to flow
and played with her blond tresses
framing her glowing face.
a photographer of flowers,
must have fallen in love
with her unfolding beauty.
Flowers bloomed along the shore.
lily's and petunias were carefully placed on the cake
along with the ripened strawberries.
Fresh, crisp and juicy
with dew in the early morning
flushed excitement in her pink cheeks
complimented the cosmos
adorning her hair
sparkling with rays of the sun.
as a guest,
a stranger of this couple,
accompanying my lover
hoping one photo of the bride
could convey this ultimate joy of a summer day.
I voyeuristically focused that lens
capturing stolen glances,
intimate communication of the lovers.
I finally put my camera down
self adsorbed in my pursuit
of perfection in a photo,
so sure I had captured that ethereal beauty of the bride.
Lost in thought and anticipationof the moment of darkness,
that synergenic, paradoxical,copulative loss of self with uncanny, acute, awareness
having such joy and absorption,
being in the state of flow,
conscious only of the creating
the perfect print
while the sensual red light glows,
I looked up to see my lover smile.
He was intently looking at me.
My camera lay on the table where I had left it.
Days later in the darkroom
with disappointment after diappointment,
the bride not having photographed well,
the flowers looking faded,
I looked at the final emerging image of the film
with great surprise
and a little jealousy,
tempered by pride and joy
at seeing beauty I had not before recognized.
All I hoped for was indeed compellingly captured
in my own, wistful, dreamy and longing eyes.
Co 2003 Msafire