Canvas Cape

Sometimes
I just need to
pretend.
I could discuss with you
the great disasters
of our nation,
debate
on the issue
of the war,
but sometimes
I want to pretend
that I'm 6 again,
laugh a pretty colors in the winds,
scream at bugs when they crawl near,
romp around the living room
with a bed sheet tied to my neck
like a blank white canvas
waiting for me to decide what to write.

My canvas is half filled now.
Most people would tell me no,
assure me I still have time to live,
and I do, I guess...
But I feel like
my canvas
has the shadow
of the drawing
to fill it soon,
not really there,
but you can see it
just the same.