Perched in my usual observation
I watched you pen careless strokes,
Adding black lines to lined paper.
Lines forming themselves into shapes
Of a woman, slender and long, bug-eyed.
You whipped up for her a hat, witch-like,
An odd choice for her tube top and skirt;
Even stranger was the choice to perch
Her on top of a ball, balancing in place.
Your focus was intense on pen and paper,
But I was more interested in the muscles
In your hands as they moved across the page,
The way your brow quivered when you questioned
A line, already permanently placed.
Your eyelashes fluttered to me as I suggested
Additions, the backseat artist and observer.
I had watched you in your world daily,
Trying to focus on the pen tip to calm
The spinning of life around you,
Calm the blurring of your mind and just
Focus.
I assumed this daily doodle would find a home
In your folders and wrappers and marbles
That filled your clutter backpack.
You carefully folded the notebook piece
To fit your creation’s shape,
Hovered over final strokes, shrouding,
And presented her to me with that soft,
Sly smile, more than friendly.
Our fingers brushed for only a moment,
And under the buzz of the day’s lesson you whispered
“Happy Birthday.”