When I Draw

As my pencil paints a picture 

my paper is a portal 

peering into a paradise-- 

A world of peace immortal 

Because even when I’m drawing 

drawing in black and in white 

the colors begin to swirl ‘round 

as I reach out to hold them tight 

But even when I catch them 

they find a way 

to snatch away 

Something part of me 

But if they stay 

their soft presence, 

as thin as a feather 

soft but never breaking 

and I’ll be there waiting-- 

waiting to try again 

But wait 

Why do I draw-- 

spending my time here 

sitting 

No, 

it's because 

Who I Am is not perfection 

It's the chance to become something more It's 

the sound of the ocean inside a shell, stored, 

and that whisper of a fairy inside my core, and 

that dream of flying besides the birds, never 

fleeing without sight of 

much, much more