A little boy rides his scooter slow,
Wheels whisper soft on streets below.
Across Exhibition, bold and wide,
He glides with wonder, dad by his side.
Monochrome holds the city still,
Time in grayscale bends to will.
Shadows stretch, the tram bells chime,
They move as if outside of time.
His father’s hand, a steady guide,
Through crosswalks where the moments bide.
A boy, a scooter, a world to claim—
In black and white, he writes his name.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 894
On Flinders Street in winter's breath,
Where light is low and still as death,
A family walked through morning's grey,
Their shapes cast long in soft decay.
One teenage boy stepped just ahead,
His gaze afar, thoughts loosely spread.
Behind, the father pushed the pram,
Its wheels in rhythm, slow and calm.
A younger child lay nestled deep,
Half-dreaming in a winter sleep.
The city's stir passed all around,
Yet peace within that pram was found.
The mother walked with silent grace,
Dark glasses veiled her watching face.
She turned to me—no smile, no frown,
Just knowing as she looked me down.
No need for words, no need for sound,
The tramline sang, the world spun round.
And in that frame of black and white,
They carried love through morning light.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 882
