Slouching in a chair, legs propped up on the armrest
next to table covered in plants-
the failed attempts at growing trees in colored pots.
My perspective- different from yours.

Sleeping, snoring, lazy dog an armlength away;
his beloved ragged duck toy
resting beneath my chair on a bed of wood planks.
I hold my pencil at ready.

Wood pencil- brushing, etching, drawing, creating
on my blank canvas of paper.
I sketch away as if there’ll be no tomorrow.
Inspiration spouts from it and

suddenly, I am the only one in the world.
All is black except my sketchbook.
Now even the twittering birds have gone away.
Everything drawn in pencil-

The final complete masterpiece, reminds me of
feeling sunlight dance across me,
While I lay in the grass, purple toenails squished in it.
It’s my perspective on paper