The Darkroom

So precise;

the developer, diluted just so,

the stop bath, the fixer. All await,
to coax an image
from particles of silver
bromide in the darkness.
All I hear is the sound of the
Paper immersed in solution.
I lift it out with care, peg it
on a line.

My image, my process, the
temperature, the time,
Just so.

Later I curl up to you in the darkness,
Knowing nothing outside of
this moment.

This touch, this sigh, all gone in the
blink of an eye. I want to peg this moment
On the line, fixing it in time.

© 2010. Sarah Horne. All Rights Reserved.

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Author: Story

Writer, occasional artist, hippie, Reiki healer and lover of nature. I love the absurd, the strange, the beautiful, the sublime. I love what happens when humans allow themselves to be Real, when the light pours through the cracks. I'm a fan of Wabi-sabi, imagination, candlelight, stars, humour, magic. I love to read stories that break down barriers, reminding us of the sheer magic of simply being alive. If I can ever touch anyone through my writing, I am deeply grateful to be able to do so, because to me, the act of writing alone isn't complete until it's been read.

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