Let’s repeat an exercise from childhood.
Lie on this blanket of paper,
arms and legs splayed as you stare
at the speckled stars on the ceiling,
the caress of my pencil against your skin
bringing me close
enough to read the words
engraved on the silver band
hugging your wrist.
This is childhood in essence,
where exploration means
seeking hands, widening
eyes, stretching limbs.
You call yourself an artless man,
too far gone to learn the motions
of brushing color and stringing
words like beads,
a lifeless tracing of artistry,
a body outlined in chalk.
But that immortal inner child
will sprint to meet you once
you lie down,
fill the space
inside the frame
built for you.
About the Poet
Diane Callahan strives to capture her insignificant sliver of the universe through writing poetry, non-fiction, and fantasy. As a developmental editor and ghostplotter, she spends her days shaping stories. Her YouTube channel, Quotidian Writer, provides practical tips for aspiring authors.