I watch her write the words upon the page.
A movement of the pen as it flows
across the stark whiteness she sets the stage
paragraphs and passages as the story grows.
Oblivious to the fact that I sit and stare
and watch her concentration.
Dutifully she builds without a care
those tales of fabrication.
When all is done and the ink has finally dried
she sees me and she does smile.
For that instant she allows me inside
and she comes back for awhile.