Just a thought.

They were sitting against the brick

with their long corners sprawled across

the walkway and I could not stop.

It was a long-day morning and

already it had slipped away from my control

but for a moment I paused

and pictured taking them up

scooping the resisting white cardboard

into my arms and running

spreading them across the lawn and doing nothing.

Standing and thinking and creating

at last with a splash of colour

and long scrawls of script

something of more worth than all these

thousand clumsy sounds by which I mutilate

the lovely language of Isabella and her loves.

At the end with my hands speckled with paint

and my nose smudged with ink

(for so my writing always ends)

I would place them proud

slender flags piercing the virgin grass

like a claim upon a moment of your time

a Caesar's cry over your tumultuous thoughts

for you came, you saw, and I conquered

for just a minute

the weariness of the days

with this

my new metamorphosis

the magic of taking some few sheets

of something blank and nothing

unmarked with meaning and

weighted by naught but potential

and transforming them into this

A gift.

A glorious moment of reminder.

I think. You're wonderful.