The steel folding chair, is nice and
Chill against the
Back of my calves. I see her,
Over there, doing
All that she loves. Twirling her pencils,
Pressing her keys,
Chiming her voice and gliding her feet,
Lost in the music and
Syllables she floats so gracefully in,
Not drowning but so
Lovely surrounded and submersed.
The pink butterflies
Land and take off of her like she's nothing
But flower petals arranged
Perfectly together. They whisper her words,
Ideas, heart strings, all
That they bring from and back to her.

On the lightest tip-
Toes, she sneaks over and tells me to come
Join her. She playfully
Begs and pleads and tugs with all her might.
Sometimes I'm there
With her, but sometimes, I just like to
Be in my chair. Because
What I first came here to do, was to sit and
Smile at all that she does.