Last Reel

Click, clack, the spool winds tight,

fingers sticky with dust and years,

a ritual fading slow,

as digital slips between fingers.

I pull the lever, slow,

feel the tension, the promise

of light and shadow,

a breath held in film’s quiet pull.

Each frame a reluctant ghost,

a story caught between clicks,

something analog slipping away,

a last reel spinning down

into silence, into shadows,

a moment folded and fading.