the gale winds outside
were making my Japanese maple dance.
His sweet voice
buzzed happy.
So. Tribeca experts examined
his heart's art. A rich
validation. Paradise.
"They liked my work," he said.
Called him a draftsman.
(Now singing "Draftsman"
instead of "Jazzman" to Carole King's song.)
"I am so proud of you," I said.
Proud of your fearless vision
Anguish
Tears
Fullness
Your dreams.
Those precious hands.
my light
my son.
 |
| Draftsman instead of Jazzman |
 |
| Richard's Hands |
