The Sketchbook Girl
Scribbled on a page one day
In a lead colored world
Scratchy hair full of rigid curls
A straight edge dress
Head to toe, she existed gray
Without a golden, sunny day
The artist fell asleep
Her body, feeling weak
To carry through the scene
No color in the lines
To bleed into the sky
The grass, the ground and trees
Flora, fauna, breathe
Colorless air
The only thing that needs no hue
Flowing on
She crawled and scratched
Into the paper
Begging for
A merciful savior
Looking on observing
Outside the lines, what was occurring
Noticing the artist stirring
Softly snoring, sketch in hand
The onlooker reached a hand
Embracing theirs
To hold it steady
Replacing the pencil full of lead
With one where imagination is bred
Pressing to the paper
Coloring her world
