Here To Find
...for Stacey Haislop
A lady at a window writing,
measuring her words with strict precision.
She takes a sip of tea
as if to fuel her imagination.
Memories go drifting by - a brother
playing basketball, the softness
of a springtime rain, the anger
of an autumn sky, a flash,
and thunder rumbling.
Smells and sounds, grist
to her mill. Nothing spoils
her view until her best attempt is done.
Still dissatisfied she tweaks
and fiddles, substitutes a weak word
for a stronger one. At last content
she sets aside her pen.
Yes, they will feel her now,
know the beauty in her mind,
and know that she is always here to find.
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