As I waited for the morning bus that would take me to work,
I watched the lights moving through the dawn traffic,
both leading and creating a trail as they passed,
carrying people on their way to office buildings down town.
I considered the reason I show up for assignments;
other than the extra bit of money in my pocketbook,
there is only one.
In a room full of people, seemingly cut from
gray cardboard, his smile brings me to life.
He makes his own little sun in a room of shadows.
I count my day a success just to catch a glimpse
of him. Quiet and kind, he does not know
he makes me bloom and is my muse.
He is a little light in the morning traffic,
helping me to find words he will likely never read,
in books both written and unwritten,
to make paintings finding their way to the end of my
brush, guided by the maps in my sketchbooks.
I do it for myself, but it is my gift to him.
I am a shadow of gray cardboard,
full of color inside.