The Spectator
The figures of the painting have come to life to talk to you.
Should you watch the brilliant play unfold,
Or shall you film it on your mobile phone?
Should you cease waving the net,
Or shall you acquire a bigger one?
The stars were never meant to be photographed,
They are meant to be glimpsed at from
Millions of miles away.
Smoke was never meant to be caught,
Only gazed at as it rises from the fire.
Pay attention to the hitch in their step,
Watch their hand stretch to shake another’s.
Write it all down,
Do not forget the important facts.
One day it may be a painting
That comes to life,
Or a play looped on a screen.
-P.C.










