Singing the Blues.

SINGING THE BLUES.

My photographs are rather bland;

So much I do not understand.

Filters are a mystery

To a person such as me,

Unaccostomed to techniques

Used by you snap-happy freaks.

How I admire the end results;

How this techno-fool exults!

Filters in particular,

Show things not as they really are

But as they would like to be

If freed from drab reality.

Take snow..... it fell as I remember

Any time around December.

But it often lasted just one day

And then it grew a grubby grey!

Finally it turned to slush!

Far removed from a snowfall's hush.

Of course, I speak of English snow,

And I also speak of long ago.

Maybe, now, it's crisp and deep,

Lying whitely in a heap.

But, for me, this pictured scene

Comes from a time of might-have-been.

White, tinged with blue to make it whiter;

Tweaked to make it look much brighter.
Is that dishonesty? No way!
If this photo were coloured grey
Would it have that same appeal
And can reality be too real?
I see a camera filter's task,
Not as as some pretentious mask,
But rather as a painter's brush
Adding a depth or sheen or flush.
While you tweak with your glorious blue,
I just stand admiring you.