To be jealous of paper
It is maddening, yet true.
Watching you through silent eyes
Your ink stained hands
Making strokes in a panic haste
Etching jagged lines, in silent leisure
Timed uncertainty, passionate intensity
My eyes follow your moments in pure silence
Your hands create passion, the artist is art
And I stand there, jealous and helpless
For among the drawn paper
Lies a piece of my heart