Antique Optique

As another weekend commenced,

one fine July evening,

while clearing stuff away, my eyes lit up,

and I let my heart sway.

In a corner, they quietly stay,

my Dad’s binoculars, back from faraway,

reaching out, gripping it’s worn but firm chassis,

just seemed to make my day.

As I bring them hurriedly to where Dad sits,

the nostalgia hits,

"Ah, the Super Zenith 20 X 50.." he says,

as the long forgotten moments replay.

Dusting the lens with care,

Dad’s binocular, now pretty rare, 35 years old, a legacy to bear,

with it’s heft and sturdy build,

it sure didn’t lose it’s flair.

Talking about Dad’s good old days with Zenith’s sight,

together, we step into the early night,

the binoculars ready, our hearts alight,

for the first time in many long years, it finally comes alive.

Droning over the night sky,

we gaze up high,

out there in the vast cosmos we pursue,

trying to spot a star or two, across the sky's dark hue.

Going round or round, like a stranded satellite
fiddling with the dials, no respite,
darkness everywhere, not a light source in sight,
as minutes pass, doubt begins to bite.

Just then, my jaws dropped, eyes glued, a smile crept,

the golden Moon now in range so bright, contours so sharp that my heart leapt,

cameras may click, but they’re just inept,

next to the sheer clarity the bino so easily kept.

This euphoric feeling, that can't be caught,

only lived, experienced and sought,

the best gift I could think of,

and, as if by magic, a new hobby unlocked.

Another attempt at writing a poem, this one's pretty raw and random..

Please do share your thoughts in the comments, I love to understand how these little scribblings make an impact on you lovely folks!!