Progress

I drew a flower today.

It was a little thing, a scribble with a pencil

On the corner of a sheet of college-ruled notebook paper.

It had five petals, none the same size,

And a little stem with a single lopsided leaf.

It was small, insignificant,

Easy to miss and easier to forget.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd drawn anything else,

A masterpiece bursting with color and expertise

Or a little graphite doodle in the corner of the paper.

This flower was small, insignificant,

But it was mine. It had come from me,

Had gotten past the darkness

And the light of the blank page.

I drew a flower today.

And tomorrow, I hope to draw another.