She kneels on the sun-bleached deck,
An array of possibilities spilling
From her in the form
Of canvas and paints
Rough sketches in charcoal.
A half-full notebook
Held down by a half-empty glass
Of lemonade sweating and dripping,
Smearing the pages as her fingers
Flow through colors.
Sun-brown hands etched with golden
Henna, tracing in blues, reds, and greens
A cold, colorful sweat on dry paper
Now tracing her hair
Brushing from root to tip
Leaving an arc of rainbow hues
In blonde.
aperfect0 