The Tourist's Photograph

Strolling calmly through the courtyards,
Of Seville's Royal Palace,
I become aware that I'm wandering,
In and out of focus and frame,
Soon to appear in numerous holiday albums,
From Frankfurt to Florida,
A nameless face,
In a tourist's photograph.

But how many foreign aunts,
Or politely disinterested colleagues,
Will cast a speedy eye over my features?
I will register (albeit only briefly),
In so many lives.

And as I walk on,
Cutting through the guided tours,
That fact makes me feel like a poet.