Separated, waiting.

Halfway through drawing
this rose, I got up to stretch
my legs and my hands.
I was gone, the drawing and I
Were separated
for hours
And it waited for me
It didn’t move,
Only, when I returned, someone
Had closed my sketchbook
The discouragement was enough
To keep these pages shut
For a long time.
However,
finding this rose once more,
I think,
I’m crazy to have ever given up.

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