Only a Glimpse

She colors the world and paints her sorrows a tender cry stifled with crayola and markers Tenderly sweetly a shadow in a window overlooking the bay only a glimpse of something beautiful in the making left bare but not for the taking the briefest glint of something wonderful yet so unattainable a picture on the page something colored through age A wonder placed assunder down on blank canvas storybook I mistook A story yet unwritten, only painted with concise strokes straight like spokes, so meticulous and determined A picture framed so neatly barely hiding a story discreetly, inked with hopes and dreams that beams through the solid blankness on the page And I had only a glimpse.