You might be a writer if you take pictures like this:

 

The Photograph

Walking in the woods today, after a late fall rain
I saw a sight so magical, I knew I'd never see it again.
The thunder and the lightening, had long since rumbled past
The rain had stopped a while ago, the sky was overcast.

Jumping in the puddles, and shaking all the trees
She sends the droplets flying to ride the playful breeze.
I begin to think in couplets, a word, a phrase, a rhyme
Then I recall the camera I've brought along this time.

She's an exotic combination, this child of my child,
A mix of heavenly angel, and magic faerie wild.
She has stopped to stare in wonder, at a single shining drop,
It has traveled down across a leaf, but at it's tip has stopped.

I reach back to grab the camera, safe within my pack
I shake my head and sigh to see, what's in the hand that I pull back.
I've left the camera nestled inside the carry sack,
Instead I've grabbed a crayon and a napkin from our snack

She squats and gazes awestruck by the drop upon the leaf
Her tiny hand is held palm upward waiting underneath.
The enraptured concentration on that tiny gamine face
The child, the drop, the tiny hand, such magic in this place.

The entire scene before me is etched upon my mind,
By a single ray of sunshine, that creates a gold outline.
It's the magic in this moment, this scene I want to share.
"Get the camera!" screams my brain, but still I stand and stare.

I turn again to grab the camera, but as I turn back around,
The leaf has dropped from leaf to palm, then onward to the ground.
That single ray of sunlight is lost within the glow
Of a thousand of its brethren putting on a show.

I tuck the camera gently back into it's resting place
She turns and grins and waves to me, THAT look upon her face
So innocent and sweet she smiles, While vibrating in her glee
She pulls back a dripping branch and fires it at me!

Later while she's napping, chasing faeries in a dream,
I pull out the paper napkin, and the notes there of the scene.
Did you enjoy the journey, as we traveled down the path,
To the final destination, this verbal photograph?