Lotus

I'm not a painter, 
but if I were, you'd be my muse. 
I'm not a sculptor, 
but if I were, I'd only sculpt you. 
If I were a singer, I would never run out of songs, 

Grief, in all forms, in all ways, changes you. I am not afraid of spiders—they crawl, and they creep, and they dangle from their long lines of gossamer webbing, and they watch me.

Winter caught my Christmas lights 

and froze them into icicles— 

now even the cold knows how to shine.