Swirled in the rabbit softness of a sea blue blanket

Next to the art jar full of driftwood plundered from sand

In reach of chocolates, stickers, and stationery

Shiny scissors, jewelry pliers, yarn skeins, a tiny backpack

Two journals - one for thoughts, one for poems

The cool metal barrel of a burgundy Lamy fountain pen shares space

With a humble blue Bic

Each asking to scribble across that pink cherry blossom paper

We picked up at the open air market last Saturday

Sanrio My Melody promises to stamp an envelope if only

Quiet books watch from their shelves to see it all

I tend to write in very concrete ways, not letting it get messy. The above is an exercise in simply recognizing the moment and not trying to make it pretty with connecting words. It is messy, like the jumble of craft and writing supplies on my desk. It invites you to feel rather than reason. It invites your inner child out to play.