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Poetry: Photography

by SusanBailey

Dad's Camera

My Dad's got a new camera.
He's driving us all mad.
It wouldn't matter if his pictures were good,
but they're all so very bad.

He took a photo of my Mum.
At least, he got her feet,
and one of Auntie Amy.
She's at the other end of that seat.

"I've got one of Uncle Albert
up a tree," he said.
But the tree had no top
and Uncle Albert had no head.

There's a good one of the carpet
and one of the ceiling too.
And one of Uncle Henry,
or could it be Auntie Sue?

He took one of our poodle,
a good one I'll agree.
The poodle wasn't in it,
but the grass looks great, look, see?

And then there's one of Hubert.
He's the keeper at the park.
I often wonder why, though,
Dad took it in the dark.

Maybe one day Dad will find
a hobby at which he's good.
But 'til then we must praise his work
'cause Mum tells us we should.

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