I do my most imaginative thinking
To the rhythmic tap of rain on the roof,
As oil rainbows swirl in the puddles of poetry
That form on the rugged roads of life.
Zig-zags of water wind their way
Down the glass of the window,
And the shadows slide over
My fevered cheeks like phantom tears.
For a time, I am a tiger,
My stripes, slithering snakes
That wrap around my arms and legs,
Warning you to beware the beast beneath.
But my forest-green gaze bids you come hither,
And my claws are concealed
From your expectant eyes,
While you foolishly assume that I'd never strike.
But as the rain retreats and the staccato song ends
I return to reality and where I began:
An anxious artist... scared of her shadow.