Arched brows
pencil thin
furrow in thought
the glide of marker
across the backdrop
of a blackboard
creates living, breathing souls
collected from your imagination
depicted in neon.
Slowly yet surely,
with your steady hand,
your artwork has manifested itself:
on old, dusty frames
bathroom vanities
on the windshield of your car
on the steering wheels
in swirls reminiscent
of van Gogh's "Starry Night".
For so long,
you were broken beyond repair.
You shut yourself off from the world
locked behind that sparse white door.
But then I floated through the hallway one day
adjacent to your bedroom-
the door was ajar.
I found you outside
cheeks flushed from the cold
sketching again

maybe time does heal all wounds
or maybe I'm just glad to see you drawing

for the first time in forever

there's some peace in knowing

the artist has returned.