The Photograph That Never Was

This is a draft of the first poem that I wrote for my Writing Poetry class. We were supposed to write about a piece of art or a photograph (aka an "ekphrastic poem"), and this is what came of it! Reactions? Comments? Questions?

Camera spits.
One square of slowly developing brilliance.
Now a box full of fog,
soon an example of artistry.
Held gingerly at one slippery corner,
waved in the wind.
Grayness fades,
almost like murky water parting.
Impatience.
Anticipation.
Expectation.
You hear the accolades in the breeze.
Shouts commending your brilliance.
"More!" They say. They want more.
More photographs, more autographs.
"It was nothing," you say. Waving.
You smile.
You look.
You see.
Nothing.